Tale of Two Lavellans
by Carapatzin
Summary: Two Dalish siblings are sent to spy on the Conclave at Haven when one of them is pulled bodily into the Fade and spit out with a queer mark on her hand. They find themselves dragged into a chain of events that may very well destroy their lives, not to mention everything (and everyone) they love. Dorian x m!Lavellan and Cullen x f!Lavellan.
1. A Scar in the Sky

_I should really be studying for finals._

_But here's my retelling of Inquisition, with both of my Lavellan babies. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>A Scar in the Sky<strong>

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Finirial Lavellan paced, ice crunching under his feet.

The keeper of their clan had sent both him and his younger sister Nanyehi down to Ferelden to spy on what Finn gathered was a meeting of significant importance. More like she'd tried to send _just _Nanyehi, who happened to be one of the clan's best archers; Finn wouldn't have that. He'd been protecting his little sister since he could walk, and important _shemlen _affairs be damned, he wasn't about to let Nani head straight into human territory without backup.

Haven was pretty enough, in a desolate, frosty sort of way, with its cozy wooden buildings and pine trees laden with loads of pale snow. Finn rather loved weather like this, when the air was dry enough that the cold felt like a fresh breath of energy and not a bucket of water dumped over your head. Crisp, refreshing. As First to the keeper, Finn needed an exceptional command over most types of magic, but he'd always found ice magic his favorite.

He paced again. Nanyehi had crept into the meeting two hours ago. He hoped they hadn't found her. A few more minutes, and he'd probably storm the meeting himself. Leaning back against the rough bark of a pine trunk, he tilted his head towards the sky and studied the wispy white clouds in the endless dome of vivid blue.

"You look like the sky," Nanyehi always told him, as if each time was the first she'd ever mentioned it. "Mother never mentioned why your hair's white. I suppose we'll never know."

Just a quirk, Finn had always suspected. His short ice-white hair tended to fluff up in funny tufts when he didn't manage it right, and most of the women in his clan liked to run their hands through it, a fact Finn usually tolerated. His eyes got lots of comments from them too: vivid eyes with deep navy blue radiating out from the pupils and a sort of crisp glacial blue around that. Finn didn't mind the comments. They were just being nice. His sister, at least, didn't fawn over his appearance, didn't call him "pretty" and touch his arm and bat her eyes.

_Where is she?_

Finn liked to think happy thoughts. He was a _glass-half-full-of-smooth-mead _kind of person. But when it came to Nani, well… He never wanted to take any chances.

Still nothing.

Finn blew out sharply through his mouth, watching his breath fog before him. Then he glanced over at where he'd last seen Nanyehi disappear, a growing sense of unease twisting his stomach. Something didn't feel right. The small town felt like it was holding its breath, and he couldn't quite place why.

_That's it, _he thought, pushing away from the pine. _I'm pulling her out of there. This isn't worth her safety. _No _shem _would take kindly to a Dalish rogue spying on an important peace-talk, even if said rogue's intentions were perfectly harmless.

An explosion rocked the world, sending Finn flying.

He tumbled past the pine, scraping himself on the bark as he flew like a ragdoll into the heaps of snow, finally rolling to a stop. His head spun, his lungs struggled to take in the breath that had been knocked out of them. When he opened his blurred eyes and stared up at the sky, he saw a great chasm above the mountains, a chasm of pulsating, rippling pale green light, with a twisting green spire descending below. His ears picked up the last sound he wanted to hear: screaming.

What in the _world?_

"Nani!" Finn yelled, scrambling to his feet and tripping over a clod of ice beneath the snow. He gripped his staff's handle tightly and ran for the village, eyes wide in panic.

No one seemed to care about the Dalish mage careening through the village. Finn hurried past hordes of frightened people, nearly running into a woman who'd paused to stare at the sky like she couldn't comprehend what had happened. A father ushered his son away from the site of the blast, in the opposite direction of Finn's path. Finn vaulted over a young girl stooping to pick up the cloth doll she'd dropped on the muddied dirt path and continued, his legs straining as he made his way up the rocky mountain path.

_Don't be dead. DON'T BE DEAD._

He heard some Fereldan soldiers shouting behind him, probably heading for the same thing as him, but they wouldn't catch him. Finn could outrun any human. If he could just reach the site of the explosion, find Nanyehi, pull her to safety before anyone realized what the two of them had been doing…

His cloth-wrapped feet skidded as he made his way onto a frozen pond, and he recovered as best he could, sprinting up some crude stone stairs and gasping for breath. Within minutes he reached the temple the meeting had been held at, and he stopped, panting, eyes wide in disbelief.

Where a proud stone edifice had one stood, a grey bulwark against the mountain elements, now lay a smoldering ruin of rubble.

"Creators, _no," _he said, rushing for the rubble without a moment's hesitation. A path downward through what had once been stone walls led him through the temple's old hallway, and he followed it, dreading what he might see. And when he came upon the center of the ruins, he realized his worst nightmares couldn't have conjured something quite like this.

The corpses had been petrified exactly how they'd perished, mouths agape in agony, bony withered hands reaching for the sky, for a savior that would never come. There must've been hundreds, scattered around the ruins, little tufts of flame flickering on their mangled bodies. Finn covered his mouth with a hand, trying not to vomit. He stepped carefully around them, looking for a glimpse of deep, wine-red hair even though he knew his sister wouldn't even be recognizable if she were here.

Nanyehi was quick on her feet, and she knew to trust her instincts. Surely she would have escaped before the blast caught up with her. Surely…

Finn stopped, watching the air several yards in front of him. It warped and twisted, turning into a flashing green scar, and to his astonishment, the scar in the air opened up momentarily and spat out his sister.

She landed face-down on the ground, her cabernet hair a tangled mess, her pale skin covered in dirt and bruises.

"Nanyehi!" Finn shouted, running to her.

He flung himself to his knees and rolled her gently onto her back, feeling her neck for a pulse point. Thank the Creators, it was there; light, faint, but fluttering beneath the pads of his fingers. Her eyes were shut tight and she had blood crusted to the side of her mouth, but she was _alive._

If he'd seen correctly, his little sister had just been dumped bodily out of the Beyond. And no one should've been able to physically enter the Beyond.

Finn strapped his staff to his back and gathered Nanyehi in his arms, struggling to his feet. It was then that the sound of pounding boots startled him from behind; he spun around to see a number of warriors rushing into the ruins, all of them laying their eyes on Finn and Nanyehi and probably coming to a hundred different wrong conclusions.

Shite.

Finn wasn't about to drop Nanyehi's body just to take up his staff and defend himself. He backed up, looking around frantically for an escape route, but didn't make it in time; the warriors surrounded him, blades pointing at him, and Finn steeled himself.

A woman with short black hair marched to the front, rage flaming in her dark eyes as she locked her gaze on Finn and stared him down. "What have you _done?" _she yelled, nearly slamming her shield into Finn, who dodged out of the way at the last time. "All those people! Most Holy was – _Maker! _ I'll kill you myself!"

"We didn't cause the explosion!" Finn said. As if that would convince these warriors, who'd just come upon the scene of a heinous crime to find one Dalish elf trying to sneak another out of the ruins. He had zero chance. Mercy didn't even seem realistic at this point. "I don't even know what… Please – "

"Take them both to Haven," the woman snarled, sheathing her sword. "And let us have our justice."


	2. Mark of the Guilty

_Hope you enjoy! (I've certainly enjoyed all things Dragon Age way more than studying for finals...ahem. Time to get back to work.)_

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><p><strong>Mark of the Guilty<strong>

Nanyehi had barely woken up before two heavily armored warriors hauled her to her feet and marched her away. The bright outdoor sun and the white-hot glare of the snow nearly blinded her, and she squinted and stumbled as the guards pushed her up a dirt path, moving her too fast for her short elf legs. She struggled to keep up as they led her through a pair of tall wooden doors and into what looked like the village Chantry, propelling her down a set of stairs and through another door, this one so reinforced it looked like it could hold off a charging bear.

She lost consciousness again, her thoughts disoriented and jumbled; when she woke she found herself on her knees with her head slumped over, her chin nearly touching her chest. Sucking in a shuddering breath, she looked down at her hands, which were shackled together in her lap – on her left hand was a pulsing scar of greenish light that throbbed with pain every few seconds, making her grit her teeth with the effort to stay awake.

Nanyehi didn't remember a damned thing. Not the Conclave, not apparently being taken into _shemlen _custody…not losing her brother. Finn wouldn't have left her like this. The only explanation for his apparent absence was that he'd been captured as well…or they'd killed him.

Damn them. Damn them for hurting her brother. She hoped the Dread Wolf would tear them into a thousand little pieces and hurl the bits into the far reaches of Thedas.

She might have been a _little _angry.

The green mark on her hand pulsed again, ripping at the edges, and Nanyehi cried out in pain, doubling over. She wanted her memories back _so badly_ that her heart ached with the loss of them, but they eluded her, flitting out of reach.

She looked up as a woman strode into the cell, followed by a half dozen guards who ringed Nanyehi and held their swords at the ready.

The woman's eyes were hardened into the coldest glare Nanyehi had ever seen, her ginger hair tucked under a grey hood, no color in her fair cheeks. She stared down at Nanyehi in complete silence for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Nanyehi glared back, not wanting to show fear in front of a _shemlen. _

Another woman entered along with the redhead – a warmaiden with sharp features and cropped black hair. The warmaiden circled around Nanyehi, stopping behind her, and Nanyehi clenched her jaw.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the warmaiden spat. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you. And then we find your brother, an _apostate, _trying to spirit you away from the scene of your crime."

"All too convenient," the redhead said.

So they had Finn. Creators knew what they could've done to him by now.

"What do you want from me?" Nanyehi tried. "Do you _honestly _think I caused all this? I had nothing against _shems _until you threw me in prison."

"You were the only survivor," the redhead reiterated. "And your brother certainly looks like an accomplice."

"Explain this!" the warmaiden snarled, lifting Nanyehi's shackled hands. The mark burst again, filling Nanyehi with crackling pain; she pressed her lips together and tried to muffle her own screams, momentarily squinting her eyes shut. "Explain _all of it."_

"I can't!" Nanyehi cried. "Finn, my brother, he's alive – he saw what happened – _please, _if you have him in custody here, let him be a witness and not a criminal! We didn't do anything!"

"Your brother is safe at the moment," the redhead said.

"Don't run circles around my question," the black-haired woman said. "I asked you to explain this mark on your hand. Do so."

"_Like I said," _Nanyehi hissed, "I can't. I don't know what it is. I don't know how it got here. But Creators know I wouldn't inflict _this much pain _on myself or put my own brother in such danger – "

"You're lying!" the warmaiden yelled, taking Nanyehi by the shoulders and giving her a hard shake; Nanyehi's teeth cracked together. Then the redhead grabbed the warmaiden's arm and forcefully backed her away from Nanyehi with words Nani couldn't hear. "It's the same story, Leliana," the black-haired woman spat. "Do you honestly believe both elves have no idea what happened at the Conclave? Bullshit!"

"Let me handle this, Cassandra," the redhead – Leliana – said, approaching Nanyehi. "No more lies. Do you remember what happened? How this began? I suggest you try to."

Nanyehi searched her memories, trying not to watch Cassandra as the woman paced behind Leliana, her face a mixture of anger and agony. Flickers came back to Nani briefly, brushing around the edges of her mind like the last remnants of a bad dream, and she let them pour out of her mouth before she forgot them. "Running. Things chasing me. Green…so much green. Fear. _Despair. _My hand burning. A…a woman."

"A woman?" Leliana crossed her arms over her chest.

"She reached out to me," Nanyehi said. Another pulse of fear coursed through her blood, as if in reaction to whatever she was remembering tiny bits of. She tried to remember who the woman was, but couldn't reach any farther into the recollection. "Our hands…almost…"

Leliana's face crumpled.

Cassandra intercepted them then, backing Leliana away with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana," she said. "I'll take her to the rift."

A bead of water from the leaking ceiling splashed onto Nanyehi's forehead, trickling down her nose, and she tried to wipe her face on her sleeve. Cassandra knelt in front of her, the woman's brown eyes full of confusion and anguish. Nanyehi met her gaze, hoping the woman would see her innocence, her _pain. _Cassandra could not be without sympathy.

"Please," Nanyehi choked out, her brows knitting together, "explain what's going on. Tell me how to fix this."

Cassandra's eyes softened then.

"It will be easier to show you," she said, taking Nani's elbow and lifting her to her feet. "Perhaps seeing the rift itself will jog your memory." She led Nanyehi through the Chantry, her boots pounding on the stone floor. Mercifully, she slowed her pace so Nani's stride could match hers. "Your brother claims he saw you fall out of the Fade rift, unconscious. A couple of our warriors have attested to the same thing."

"Do you honestly believe I caused the explosion?" Nani asked.

Cassandra hesitated. "I do not know," she said as they reached the main doors. "Someone is to blame. I know that much."

Two guards opened the double doors for them, and Nanyehi's cloth-wrapped feet stung as she stepped onto the icy dirt path outside of the Chantry. The glare of the bright winter sun hurt her eyes, but she forced herself to look up at the sky, gasping as she did so. Above the mountain was a gaping wound in the sky, a green chasm filled with miasmic light and chunks of floating rock, spitting flares of greenish light in all directions every few seconds.

Cassandra's quizzical look told Nani that the woman had caught her surprised reaction, and was in turn just as surprised.

"We call it the Breach," Cassandra explained, keeping a hand on Nanyehi's back so she didn't keel over. "It grows larger each passing hour. If we do not do something to stop it, all manner of demons could cross from the Fade into this world."

Well…shite.

"The Fade?" Nanyehi asked.

"Ah," Cassandra said. "You are Dalish. I've heard it called the Beyond for you. It is the same." She looked down at Nanyehi. "It is not the only such rift. Just the largest. All caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

Nani had no idea a simple explosion could do such a thing. She'd seen Finn's ice magic explode into twisted ice shards, seen booming fire and spitting lightning, but nothing anywhere near to this. She couldn't even comprehend how one would manufacture such an explosion.

"This one could grow until it swallows the world," Cassandra said, her eyes narrowing.

As if on cue, a column of light sizzled below the Breach, briefly reaching for the ground, and Nanyehi's mark reacted, exploding in pain. She shrieked and stumbled, falling to her knees in the dirty snow. Cold sweat beaded on her brow. The green light swelled on her hand, crackling around it, and she pressed her hands to her belly in a desperate attempt to smother the mark.

"I'm sorry," Cassandra said, kneeling. "I did not realize how much pain you're in. Each time the Breach expands, so does that mark…and it is killing you. "

"Why would I do this to myself?" Nani whimpered. "_Why? _Maybe you believe I'm heartless enough to murder hundreds of people, but do you honestly believe I'd put myself in _agony?"_

Cassandra didn't answer. She looked torn.

"That mark may be the key to stopping this," she finally said. "We haven't much time. If you are willing to work with me to close the Breach, I can promise you a fair trial."

"And Finn?" Nanyehi asked. "My brother?"

"Him as well," Cassandra said.

"Then I'll do anything," Nani said. "Take me to it."


	3. Vanquisher of Rifts

_And we're back!_

_I'm already 3/4 through playthrough #2 (Finn's playthrough) and I still cannot get enough of this game. It's so good. It may destroy my life. And I'm perfectly okay with that. (Does anyone else do that thing where they get so attached to a character that they literally re-make them in the character creator and play them again? I'm going to do that for #3.)_

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><p><strong>Vanquisher of Rifts<strong>

Finn twirled his staff above his head, sending frost raining down on a lesser shade. The creature froze where it had been sliding purposefully towards him, its movements arrested for the remainder of its now miniscule lifespan – the ice around it shattered, taking it along in the minor explosion, and the demon faded into a puff of smoke on the snow below it.

"Nice one, Frosty," Varric said, hoisting his shiny, metallic crossbow onto his back. Bianca, he called it. Frequently. Finn couldn't fathom why. "Now I see why Cassandra let you go."

_Let him go _was a bit of an overstatement; Cassandra's words to Finn were that he was to help the forces hold Haven against the demons, and that if he happened to kick the bucket during combat, she'd probably have a nice drink and consider it karma. Not her exact words, but still. Finn wasn't exactly _free_, not with all of these warriors watching him from every angle – not to mention they still had his sister in custody. That, and the fact that Leliana would shank him personally if he tried to make a run for it.

He regarded the dwarf with a crooked half-smile. "Frosty, is it? I have a real name, you know."

"Damn elven names," Varric said. "Too hard to pronounce."

"But it's _Finn. _One syllable."

"If I were you, Finirial," Solas said, resting the butt of his staff on the ground, "I would take his choice of nickname as a fortunate outcome and leave it be, lest he think up another one for you."

Ah, right. Solas, the bald apostate elf with stormy blue eyes, a soft-spoken manner, and a penchant for spirit magic, had been dubbed "Chuckles" for some odd reason. Finn supposed "Frosty" was a stroke of good luck in that regard.

"Don't see any more demons coming our way, for the time being," Varric said, looking up at the rift in the middle of the iced-over ruins. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons for the rest of our lives."

"That depends entirely on whose arse you're talking about," Finn said.

"Cassandra's," Varric said with a laugh.

"So you'd be chin-deep in demons, then," Finn said.

"You're no giant yourself, Frosty," Varric reminded him.

Finn leaned on his own staff and dutifully watched the rift, waiting for the next wave of demons. It was inevitable; they'd been coming steadily for the couple of days he'd been out here with Solas and Varric, and with no way to close this green scar in the sky, well…they'd just keep coming.

"On your guard," Solas warned them, gripping his staff and readying it. "I sense more coming."

Solas was right, of course – not a minute later a couple shades and several floating wisps descended from the rift. Finn jumped into action, firing ice bolts at one of the shades until it quivered and sank into the ground. He'd forgotten to watch his back in that moment; he heard the shriek of a wisp behind him, and as he turned to knock his staff into its ethereal form, he saw one of Bianca's bolts rip through it and dissolve it mid-swing.

"Thanks!" Finn shouted, focusing on the next demon.

On top of the stairs leading down to the ruins he saw two forms emerge, then heard what he absolutely wasn't expecting: Cassandra yelling "they need help!" and running down the ridge, leaping into the fray like a madwoman. Upon closer inspection, he realized the second form was his little sister: pale, hair tangled, but already firing arrows from a flimsy-looking bow. Finn breathed a sigh of relief.

That was, of course, until he saw a shade emerge clawing from the ground just in front of Nanyehi, who didn't have any melee weapons to defend herself.

He started to run for her, but she had already grabbed a thin, splintered log in her hands and swung it at the shade, knocking it at least partially away from her. Finn followed up with an ice bolt, and the creature dissipated, melting back into the ground.

"Finn!" she said, looking up at him in shock. "You're…all right? And not in chains?"

"They figured Frosty would be more useful with the defense efforts!" Varric answered, cradling Bianca in two hands like an infant and striding over to the both of them. Finn vaguely saw Cassandra and Solas finish off the last two demons.

"Nani," Finn said with a smile, wrapping his arms around her small form for just a brief moment and swinging her in a circle.

Even when they'd both been prominent members in their clan in the Free Marches, Finn and Nani had always had sort of an _us-against-the-world _mentality; it didn't much matter that Nani had already led countless hunting parties and Finn was in line to be the clan's keeper. It didn't matter that Finn could get along with just about anyone, so long as he didn't reveal too much about himself. No matter what, they had each other, someone who always had their back and understood their deepest secrets. Holding her now, Finn realized he'd felt rather empty without his little sister there. She squeezed his neck tight with a happy little laugh, then let him go…

And was promptly half-urged, half-carted over to the rift by Solas.

"Quickly!" Solas said, obviously not one for formalities. "Before more come through!"

And then he took Nanyehi's wrist in his hand and lifted her left hand high, pointing her palm directly at the rift. Finn saw her shield her eyes with her free hand, her right one, as pulsing green light funneled from her hand to the rift, and the scar in the air exploded, dissolving like fine mist, electric tingling coursing down Finn's back and raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Andraste's tits," Varric said.

"Creators' holy balls," Finn breathed, shaking his head and staring at the now empty void where the rift had been.

Cassandra sighed loudly.

"You know," Varric said, looking up at Finn, "I think I'm going to like you just fine."

Nanyehi seemed only shocked for a moment; then she whirled, turning on Solas with an accusatory look in her turquoise eyes. "What in the world was that?" she said. "What did you do? How – "

"A hunch," Solas said with the slightest of smiles. "I did nothing. The credit is yours."

"It can't be mine," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "Whatever just happened had to do with this…_thing." _She lifted her hand palm-up, regarding it. "That hurt. But it was worth it."

"Whatever magic opened that breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," Solas said. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach's wake – and it seems I was correct."

"That's quite the wild hunch," Finn said.

"Hold a moment," Cassandra said, striding closer, looking aggressive and determined, her dark eyes narrow. "This means that mark could also close the breach itself."

"Possibly." Solas folded his hands together. "It seems, Nanyehi, that you alone hold the key to our salvation."

Nani pursed her lips. "It seems that way, doesn't it?" she said. A short flurry of snowflakes passed by them as she looked up, narrow-eyed, where the rift had been, the white wisps sticking to her hair, looking like little snowdrops in cranberry jam. Finn _might _have been a tad hungry at this point. "Finn told you my name?" she guessed.

"More than that," Varric said. "He told us your name, your weight, your first words as a baby, your dress size, and the precise color of your smallclothes." He did a mock bow. "Varric Tethras, at your service. Rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tagalong."

"I'm definitely getting the storyteller part," Nanyehi said. "There's no way Finn knows half of that crap."

"Periwinkle," Finn said.

Nanyehi shot him a glare, then turned back to Varric. "So, Varric…you're with the Chantry? That seems unusual."

"Was that a serious question?" Solas said with a chuckle.

All right, Finn was starting to see the reason for the nickname.

"Technically speaking, I'm a prisoner," Varric said, eyeing Cassandra briefly. "Just like you two. Although at least we're through with the hand-binding, threatening, throwing-in-reinforced-rooms stage."

Cassandra sighed again. "I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. She would have appreciated your knowledge of River Hawke after the woman survived the events of Kirkwall and started a _worldwide mage rebellion. _Clearly, that is no longer necessary."

"Yet, here I am." The dwarf tossed his hands in the air. "Still stumbling headfirst into the weirdest shit possible. Lucky for you, considering current events."

When Finn glanced at Cassandra, he saw her draw a breath, getting ready to unleash something on Varric that Finn _could _have stopped; he didn't, figuring that making Cassandra angry would result in both him and Nani being clapped in chains once more, if they were fortunate. "Your help is appreciated, Varric," Cassandra said, "but – "

"Ha!" Varric snorted. "Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't even in control anymore. _You need me_."

Cassandra made another disgusted noise and strode away.

"It is good to see you awake and well, Nanyehi," Solas said, breaking the silence. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live."

"He means _I kept that mark from killing you while you slept," _Varric filled in.

Nanyehi smiled, crossing her slender arms over her chest. "If that's the case, Solas, then I should thank you. I really wasn't ready to die so young." She cocked her head. "You seem to know a great deal about… a great deal."

"Solas is an apostate, much like your brother," Cassandra informed them from where she stood, one foot resting on a wet chunk of rubble. She looked annoyed that their introductions lasted longer than two seconds.

Finn was well aware that humans considered Dalish mages like him to be dangerous, wild creatures that needed to be corralled in a Circle and saddled with burden and constant Templar supervision. Something like that. The metaphor sounded better before he actually thought the words. To him, it seemed a miracle that Cassandra had actually released him to guard the rift with Solas and Varric; gruff and violent though she was, she'd given him a chance before immediately shipping him off to the Templars. He owed her that much.

"I came to offer whatever help I can with the breach," Solas said. "If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin." He turned to Cassandra, whose entire form was stiffened, her eyes conflicted. "Cassandra, this magic is unlike any I have ever seen. Finirial may be a mage, but I find it difficult to believe _any _mage would have enough power to cause this. These are not the ones responsible for the crime. I can assure you that much."

"Understood," Cassandra said, nodding gravely.

And with one word, just one word, Finn felt a heavy weight slide off his shoulders. It may not have been much, but if Cassandra was willing to believe he and Nanyehi weren't responsible for the explosion, then their fate might not end in certain death. It was something to hope for.

"Then let's get that damn thing closed," Nani said, bluish fire sparking in her eyes.

"I agree," Cassandra said. "Let's get to the forward camp."


	4. The Hunter and the Battlemage

_Well, I hope you all have had a very merry Christmas! Buon natale :)_

_A quick note on specializations - I feel like one, the characters would already be skilled in battle by the time of Inquisition, and two, the characters would probably already be showing tendencies for specializations. (It's not like I'm going to write a chapter detailing how they reach "level 9" and such.) So that's why I decided to play out the scene this way._

_Also, as a reference, Finn would've been 15-16 around the time of the 5th blight. Nanyehi would've been 10-11. So their respective ages are 25/26 and 20/21._

_Cheers!_

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><p><strong>The Hunter and the Battlemage<strong>

They'd come to an impasse at the forward camp, and not one Finn was expecting.

No one looked ready to back down. Cassandra's glare matched the sharp steel of her sword, Nanyehi had her skinny arms crossed over her chest, and Leliana's look of cold calculation sent shivers creeping up and down Finn's spine.

"Call a retreat, Seeker," a man in what Finn found to be silly-looking white and red robes said, lifting his grizzled chin high. Roderick, Finn thought he'd heard him call himself…chancellor? "Our position here is hopeless! You think to actually reach that breach with this ragtag bunch of thugs?" He violently jerked his finger towards Nanyehi, who didn't flinch. "With the woman who singlehandedly destroyed a _peace meeting? _Not to mention two _elven _apostates and the author of quite literally the most absurd books I've ever read!"

"Admitting you read them is enough for me to go on," Varric said from next to Finn.

"I _have _to read them now," Finn muttered down to Varric.

"I'll get in touch with my publishers," Varric said.

"She has the best chance of closing the breach," Cassandra said, gesturing to Nanyehi – the force in her voice jolted Finn back to the conversation at hand. "What do you propose we do? Sit here and hope it goes away? We can stop this before it's too late."

"So you plan to take this little group and trek your merry way to the temple without dying?" Chancellor Roderick said. "Preposterous! You must take that _girl _to Val Royeaux to be hanged for her crimes! And her accomplice brother with her!"

Finn had been called "accomplice" so many times that he was reasonably convinced no one would remember his name after a while, and that he would be referred to as such until the day he died. The tale of Nanyehi Lavellan and Unnamed Accomplice closing the breach would be passed down in history, whispered by excited little children, written in tomes to sit on a library shelf – provided they _did _close the breach, after all. If they didn't, well…Unnamed Accomplice would be an unnamed corpse in the snow.

Delightful.

"You _will not _order me," Cassandra snarled. "Taking them to the temple is the most direct route and the quickest, and it's what we will do. Our soldiers out on the battlefield will give us what aid they can."

"It's not the safest, Cassandra." Leliana shook her head. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains. It's a tricky path, but I have no doubt we can use it."

Finn saw Nanyehi look up at the path, quietly calculating. He knew what she'd say – that rushing headfirst into battle would be a fool's errand, and that a distraction would be a solid plan. No Dalish hunting party ever charged into battle with swords raised over their heads and war-screams on their lips, after all. (Except, of course, for the Battle of Denerim during the Fifth Blight ten years ago, which was the single most strange battle Finn had ever been in…but that was a long time ago.) Subtlety, stealth, precision: those were their ways. And Nani was nothing if not an accomplished hunter.

Cassandra snorted. "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's much too risky. And I do not appreciate the use of our soldiers as live bait to throw demons off our path."

"And so we abandon our scouts?" Leliana retorted.

Chancellor Roderick, meanwhile, looked like he'd had enough of the whole predicament. "Enough!" he said. "Listen to me! Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"

"You mean _human _lives," Nanyehi said, frowning. "No one cares about the three elves and the dwarf. We're perfectly good demon-fodder."

"Listen here – " Chancellor Roderick began.

"Fool," Solas snarled at the chancellor. "If we bury our faces in the ground, the breach will swallow us whole."

As if on cue, the sky rumbled above them, and the breach spat out a couple meteorites of green light and chunky rock. Nanyehi stumbled and clutched her left hand to her belly, pain contorting her fair features. The light flared brightly off her hand, nearly blinding Finn; he wanted to block his eyes, but instead he cupped a hand under Nani's elbow, trying to hold her steady.

"I'm _fine, _Finn," she said, shaking her head. "I can handle it."

Caught off guard, Finn dropped his hand.

"All this bickering will get us nowhere," Cassandra said, turning to Nanyehi. "We must decide on our course of action _now_."

"What?" Nani said, looking surprised. "You're asking me? I thought I was the _prisoner, _not the advisor."

"You have the mark, do you not?" Solas pointed out.

Cassandra nodded. "As Solas said, _you _have the power to close the breach, and _you _are the one we need to keep alive. The rest of us are expendable in that regard. And since none of us can come to an agreement, an outside voice may solve matters."

Finn already knew what Nani would say. She was a ranger, a hunter, a scout – she would not abandon what she considered a hunting party just for the sake of charging alongside a human force. She hadn't fought in battles like Finn had, hadn't stood side-by-side with human warriors and known their lives were in each others' hands.

"We take the path," she said, looking up at the sky and dropping her afflicted hand to her side.

"Makes sense," Varric said.

"Nani, _wait," _Finn said. "I know _we're _not demon-fodder, but why do those soldiers have to be? They've got lives too. _Families_. We should be out there with them. Leliana's capable – let her search for the missing scouts."

"No _shemlen _would sacrifice himself for one of us," she said, cocking her head and looking at Finn with confusion in her eyes. He knew she didn't understand, knew by the tiniest scrunching between her eyebrows, knew by the way she looked at him but barely really _saw _him. "Why should I throw away practicality for one of them? We take the scouts' route."

"As you say," Cassandra said with a soft sigh.

As the group began walking, Finn hesitated, his shoulders stiffening. Then Varric grabbed his arm, looking up at him.

"There's a story to all this, isn't there?" the dwarf said. "Why you're perfectly comfortable around humans when your sister looks ready to jump out of her skin."

"There is," Finn said. "Maybe once we're reasonably certain we won't end up as dead little flakes of dust on the ground, then I'll tell you."

* * *

><p>The sight of the temple gave Finn a strange, unpleasant sense of nostalgia. He could vividly remember tearing through the ruined hallways, through the morbid rows of burning, petrified corpses, smelling the raw odors of fire and decay, watching his little sister's unconscious body tumble out through an opening into the Beyond. He remembered the choking fear that he'd truly lost her, that all his efforts to protect her and ensure her a normal life in their clan had been in vain, that he'd failed after all.<p>

How much things had changed in a couple days.

Here now, in front of him, suspended over the flat ground below them, was the very rift that had spat out his sister. He saw Nanyehi staring at it with a hint of pain in her eyes that he knew only _he _could detect.

"You made it!" he heard behind him, and saw Leliana jogging towards them, bow at the ready.

"Barely," Varric said. "We were greeted along the way by more rifts, demons, and generally unpleasant things that didn't bother returning a cheery hello."

"That's what I'd call a Monday," Finn said, shrugging.

"Tuesday," Varric said, looking nostalgic for just a moment. "Hawke always said Tuesday."

"Can we do it?" Nanyehi said, gesturing to the rift. "Can we close this? Make things right?"

"That is entirely up to you," Cassandra said. "Your mark is the only thing that has power against these rifts, after all. But I believe we can win ourselves a victory today."

"Indeed." Solas looked down at Nanyehi. "This rift is closed at the moment, but not entirely _stable_. If you re-open it and seal it, you could stabilize it for good. And considering this appears to be the rift that started the breach, sealing this one could have a monumental effect."

"I'm ready," Nani said, staring down at her hand. "For whatever comes."

"Leliana, position your men along the railings where they can shoot down onto the ground," Cassandra instructed. "Re-opening the rift will mean demons. We must stand ready. I will take the five of us down and confront the rift head on."

"I will accompany you," Leliana said gravely.

Cassandra led the way along the stairs, and they made their way around the rim of the flat field where the explosion had been created. A weird ringing filled Finn's ears, and he halted, steadying himself; a moment later, a man's chilling, gravelly voice filled the air around them, vast and cold and devoid of echoes.

"_Bring forth the sacrifice."_

Cassandra stopped, looking up at the sky, spinning as if she could find the source of the voice. "What am I hearing?" she said. "Who is that?"

"We're hearing whoever caused the breach, I presume," Solas filled in.

"It's clearly not Nani," Finn said.

"Oh, I don't know," Nanyehi said, looking back at Finn. "Maybe there's something I haven't told you?"

He smiled slightly. _There_ was a trace of the little sister he used to know before this nonsense had happened. But her wry look was gone in an instant, and once more she seemed jaded and in a great deal of pain. With squared shoulders she resumed their jog around the walkway, only stopping to study the weird rocks cropping up along the path. Finn noticed them too: odd, pulsating rocks the color of blood, sticking up in thick stalagmites along the edges of the path, like a red cancer inflicting the black rock faces.

"These aren't rocks," Nanyehi noted, reaching unsteady fingers towards them.

Solas jerked his hand forward and snatched hers, pulling it away from the red rocks. She looked startled.

"That's red lyrium," Varric said. "What's it _doing _here?"

"These mountains are full of natural lyrium deposits," Solas said, keeping his distance from the red lyrium but studying it with keen, curious eyes. "It's possible the magic that created the breach pulled from these lyrium deposits and corrupted them."

"It's possible," Varric agreed. "Either way, don't touch – "

"_Somebody, help me!" _came a voice from the rift. This one, however, was a woman's – shaking, fluttering, obviously agonized.

Cassandra jolted where she stood, her gaze zeroing in on the rift. "That was Most Holy's voice," she breathed. "By the Maker… What happened?"

"_What's going on here?" _came another voice.

Nanyehi's.

"So you _were _there!" Cassandra turned on Nanyehi. "Tell me what happened!"

"I can't remember any of it!" Nanyehi said. Her voice had the slightest catch to it; she was shaken up, and Finn knew it. "Creators, I can't even recall saying that. But there's my voice, clear as day…"

She seemed to make up her mind. With a determined shake of her head, she brushed her hair out of her face and leapt down from the short ledge onto the charred remains of the room the peace talk had been held in, now a scarred, flat, rock-ridden field, bereft of its former majesty. Finn gingerly followed her down, his feet aching when they hit hard against the ground. She didn't seem to notice; she approached the rift like she was in a trance, her head held high.

Translucent shapes manifested at the rift, visions of what once was; Finn saw an old woman suspended in midair with her arms spread-eagled, pinned there by twisting chains of red magic, and in front of her a miasmic cloud of greenish fumes with glowing red spots for eyes. Where was this taking place? A room? In the Beyond, obviously, but… Finn saw a door to the side open up, saw Nanyehi's clear form burst into the room and her eyes widen in horror. The old woman suspended in front of the shifting cloud-man turned her head to look at Nanyehi, her eyes crinkling in a sort of desperate relief. Then the image snapped, fizzled away, and Cassandra jumped down from the ledge, looking at Nanyehi.

"Most Holy was calling out to _you _for help," she said. "I was… I was wrong…"

"It's all right," Finn said hastily.

Nani gave Finn a look, obviously confused by his rapid response. "Tell me what to do, Cassandra," she said.

"Of course," the warmaiden said, resuming her air of collected control. "You need to focus on the rift. Ignore any demons that come out of it. We'll keep them off you. Your duty must be to close it, no matter how much willpower it takes."

"_Ma nuvenin_," Nanyehi said. "But I _will _say one thing: if I see Finn about to fall, I'm focusing on him. _Keep him safe."_

With that final announcement, she strode to the rift, lifted her hand, and braced herself. Green light sucked from the scar and funneled to her hand, and with a tremendous boom, the rift opened and thrust something past Nanyehi; her hair whipped about as she ducked her head to shield herself. The _something_ writhed and materialized, forming a massive demon easily the size of twenty stacked halla – not that Finn knew how large halla were when stacked. The demon threw its horned head back and let loose an earth-shaking roar, hard muscle and sinew rippling beneath its grey, scaly skin.

"Pride demon!" Solas warned.

"Take it down!" Cassandra cried, unsheathing her sword with a sharp metallic ring.

Finn pulled his staff from the bindings at his back and drew deep from his mana reserves, sending a bolt of frost the demon's way. It shrugged off the attack like Finn had pegged it with a kitten instead of an ice bolt, then swung its massive arm at Cassandra, who narrowly dodged the blow. Bianca's bolts and Leliana's arrows glanced off the demon's hide and clattered to the ground, and Solas's attacks diffused like clouds of mist.

Not an easy fight, this. Finn was reminded of the one time he'd encountered a great bear while walking by himself near his clan's camp. He tried the rapidfire approach, his staff moving like a blur as he shot multiple bolts the demon's way, but they barely seemed to have an effect. The demon's skin must've been heavily armored, he realized with dismay.

With a dark, rattling cackle, the demon whipped a lightning arc through several of Leliana's archers; the men's armor wasn't enough to take the blast, and they fell in a heap of sparking bodies. Finn tried not to curse, failed, and let loose a stream of unsavory words.

Did a demon this massive _really _need a full command of lightning magic?

He saw Nanyehi brace herself, her hand raised, _pulling _against the rift, and a sharp pop made Finn's ears ring; the giant demon fell to one knee and hung its head, the ground rumbling beneath it.

"It's vulnerable!" Cassandra shouted from next to the demon. "Its guard is down!"

_Perfect._

Finn thrust his hands out in front of him and shot out a long shard of ice, and the demon's grunt of pain might have been the most satisfying noise he'd heard all day. Arrows and bolts sank into the creature's hide, making it look like a massive, ugly pincushion, and Solas's magic erupted around it; despite all this, the demon struggled to its feet, raised its scythed arm high, and swung it in Varric's direction. Cassandra shielded him at the last moment, taking the full force of the blow.

"Seeker!" Solas yelled as Cassandra tumbled a few feet, her shield landing on top of her. She was still for a few seconds, then pressed her hand against the rocky ground, trying to rise. The pride demon stood tall and shimmered, and Finn realized it was re-focusing its guard.

If Cassandra took more hits like that, she might not make it through this fight.

It wouldn't be easy, but Finn knew what he had to do.

"Trust me, Nani!" he yelled, gripping his staff tight in his right hand and running for the demon. He saw her glance at him, nod gravely, and continue to brace herself and focus on distorting the rift. Finn barreled past Solas, who narrowly dodged out of the way. "Solas," Finn said, skidding to a stop, "I'm going to need your barrier!"

He didn't wait for Solas's verbal response; the surge of magic, the clear blue crackling of a barrier forming around him and seeping into his skin, was enough. Finn leapt right into the demon's line of sight.

In theory, he'd trained for moments like this ever since he'd become the Keeper's First. He'd studied the Pantheon, studied lore and mythology, pored over everything he could on the elven language, practiced as many fields of magic as he possibly could. The legends of the elven arcane warriors of old, _dirth'ena enansal,_ the battlemages who could combine the powers of their mana and their barriers in perfect synergy until the two gave each other life, had always fascinated him.

In practice…the last time he'd attempted the technique, he'd been gored by a bear.

No more time to think. Finn twirled his staff, smacking the bloodstone blade at the end of it into the demon's hide with a burst of ice shards. Magic from mana, barrier from magic, strength from barrier. As he twisted out of the way of a stomp that would have crushed him flat, he felt the barrier's power surging around him, strengthening with each blast of ice. He was mere feet from the massive demon, but he didn't let himself consider the size, not while he was in trampling range like this. Cassandra was up and fighting again, her shield at the ready, her sword making silvery metallic arcs in the air as she swung, but the demon had already turned its focus to Finn.

If he could keep it off the rest of them, absorb its attacks until Nani could strip its guard again, they'd have a fighting chance.

_Hold, _Finn begged the barrier – never mind that it seemed silly to beg something inanimate – as he spun and walloped the demon with more ice. _Vir Bor'assan… Bend, but never – _

The demon's arm raised, and it arced a lightning whip directly at Finn.

– _break._

Everything shuddered, shivered, knocked about like a ship in a stormy sea. Finn's teeth cracked together, his bones rattled, his legs stumbled against the quaking earth. That blow had felt like a boulder falling on top of him.

But he wasn't dead. And the barrier held.

The rift popped again, and the demon fell to one knee. Cassandra's blade sank deep into its gut, and one of Bianca's bolts whistled straight into the demon's eye socket. In just a few seconds, the tide of the battle turned dramatically to their favor; Finn took a step back and unleashed a ball of fire, feeling the inferno's magic feed into his barrier and strengthen it once more. The archers around the rim clearly felt the same change that Finn had; many of them let out triumphant war cries and fired faster, straighter, riddling the demon with arrows until it sank fully to the ground and shattered like broken glass.

The labored hissing of Nanyehi's breath caught Finn's attention even more than the rumbling of the world around them as she yanked the rift shut and fell back on her rear.

Everything calmed, sinking into blissful stillness. Finn leaned heavily on his staff, panting, as surveyed the battlefield. Leliana regarded them all with a careful look and set about gathering her remaining archers. Solas and Varric stood next to each other, mostly unharmed save for a few nasty-looking scrapes; Varric didn't say anything about Cassandra shielding him from the demon's arm, but the grateful look on his face said more than words ever could. Then Solas left Varric and jogged over to Nanyehi. Cassandra, near Finn, stared at Finn so intently that he almost needed to look away.

"You…" she started, shaking her head, like she didn't believe what she'd seen. "You, a mage, threw yourself in front of an attack that _killed _some of our men. And _lived."_

"_Dirth'ena enansal," _Solas said. Now he had Nanyehi's arm over his shoulders and appeared to be supporting much of her weight. She looked exhausted, her left hand a blackened, sizzling mess. "The battle magic of the arcane warrior. An ancient elven technique. I am not surprised that Finirial knows of it."

Finn would have rushed to support his sister – Creators knew he couldn't fathom the amount of agony the mark caused – but he found himself too exhausted to do so.

"Creators, Finn," Nani breathed. "Are you all right? You haven't tried that since – "

Since the incident with the great bear. Since Finn's naïve enthusiasm had gotten him a claw gash to the face and multiple puncture wounds in his abdomen and neck. Since he'd nearly bled to death a year ago.

Finn cleared his throat, catching his breath. "Of course I'm all right," he said. "Are you? Your mark – "

"I'll be fine, Finn. The pain has subsided." She set her jaw stubbornly. "I'd rather talk about that insane plan of yours."

That had always been Nanyehi's way, to diminish pain by pretending it didn't exist. What right did Finn have to take it away from her? "I had to decide on it fast," Finn said. "It was… Well. Interesting."

"Interesting," Varric repeated. "Frosty throws himself in front of a pride demon, wearing little more than a tunic and breeches, takes a damn lightning whip to the face, and calls it _interesting." _He whistled. "I'm writing a book about you, kid."

"Just don't give it a shitty title," Finn said, then coughed into his sleeve.

"I have heard of mages called knight-enchanters," Cassandra mentioned. "Their barrier techniques, from what I've heard, are similar to yours…and the Chantry gives them special permission to practice this magic in battle." The slightest ghost of a smile crept onto her face. "Since I became certain of your and your sister's innocence, I have been wracking my brain to think of ways to prevent the Templars from taking you in for apostasy. Now I know. If we find you formal training, and grant you dispensation…we can be assured of your freedom from arrest. And since Nanyehi is no mage, no dispensation of any sort will be required."

"Wait," Nanyehi said, pulling away from Solas and steadying herself. "You're…certain of our innocence? What about only promising us a trial? What about – "

Something about not looking a gift halla in the mouth came to mind.

" – As I said," Cassandra interrupted, "I am now certain of your innocence. Not only did I hear Most Holy call out to you for help in the vision…but the both of you just willingly participated in one of the hardest fights I've seen in quite some time." Only the subtle way she pressed a hand to her side and sucked in a breath belied the fact that she was probably in great pain from her fall. "If you would both accompany me back to Haven, I have something I want to do. _Need _to do. And I would greatly appreciate your help with it."

Finn looked at Nanyehi. She looked over at him. They were both safe now, freed from guilty charges, fully able to return to their clan. They could pretend none of this had ever happened. Nanyehi could go back to leading hunting parties, and Finn could resume his studies until the time came when he would take up the position of Keeper. He knew Nanyehi didn't care a lick for _shemlen_.

"I… I think it's the right thing to do," Nanyehi said, her eyes focused on Finn even though she spoke to Cassandra. "This breach, let alone whoever _caused _it, could very well destroy everything, even our clan, and I… I can't let that happen." She lifted her chin. "Finn and I will accompany you. As allies."

Finn found himself smiling just as wide as Cassandra did.

"Then let us return to Haven," the warmaiden said. "We've a lot to discuss."


	5. What Came Before, and What Comes Next

_Leliana is a name-dropper._

_If you're curious about any of the Wardens mentioned here, go check out United We Stand, Divided We Fall - it's very much a work-in-progress, but it'll give you an intro to the characters._

_Up next: the Hinterlands!_

* * *

><p><strong>What Came Before, and What Comes Next<strong>

Now inside the Chantry, Finn leaned heavily on his staff to keep himself from falling asleep and dropping to the floor like a sack of rotten tomatoes. It didn't matter much that it was only mid-afternoon outside; his eyes fluttered, straining to stay open, and he caught himself swaying a few times. The warm, buttery orange light of the wall lanterns reflecting off the wooden walls themselves didn't help Finn stay awake _at all._

Attempting those _dirth'ena enansal _techniques had left him utterly drained.

He, Nani, and Cassandra stood around a heavy wooden table, and Cassandra brushed her chin with one hand, studying ornate onyx markers on the table's knotty surface and frowning occasionally at their position. Finn jolted when the door behind him slammed open, and Leliana and Chancellor Roderick strode into the room.

"This is _preposterous," _Chancellor Roderick fumed, marching right up to Cassandra and waving his hand around, finger pointed accusingly, like he was trying to stir up a fierce windstorm with just his own motions. "I _order you _to take these criminals to Val Royeaux!" He turned his bluster to the two guards at the door. "Chain the elves."

"He could at least treat us to a nice dinner date before he starts with the chains," Finn whispered to Nanyehi.

She halfheartedly swatted him.

"Disregard that," Cassandra said, dismissing the two guards with a wave of her hand. They saluted and left the doorway. "I heard the voices in the temple, chancellor. You were not there. You did not hear Most Holy call out to Lady Lavellan for help."

Chancellor Roderick sneered. "She is the only one to survive the blast, she falls out of the Breach _unharmed, _and you mean to call this _coincidence_?"

"Providence," Cassandra said. "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nanyehi said, waving her hands about defensively in front of her. If any more hands were waved, Finn thought deliriously, they might stir up a tornado in Haven's Chantry and demolish the entire village. "I'm not… I don't even believe in the _shemlen _god. Dalish, remember? Your Maker wouldn't have sent someone like me."

Both Cassandra and Leliana frowned disapprovingly.

"See?" the chancellor said. "Even your 'chosen one' thinks this is all hogwash."

Cassandra just chuckled, turned around, and plucked a heavy book off an end table behind her. Then she plopped the book on the main table with a tremendous thunk. Finn spied a strange design on the cover, a stylized white eye with flames all around it. Either it represented a religious motif…or a bad eye infection. Hopefully the first. Lesser of two evils.

"This," Cassandra said, "is a writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act in the case of her absence, as I am sure you're aware. And I believe now we have ample justification to act. The Breach is stable, but still a threat, and I will not ignore it. Lady Lavellan's mark is our only hope of closing it, and she will need as much support as we can give her."

Recognition dawned in the chancellor's eyes. "You intend to begin the Inquisition."

That sounded ominous.

"What you should be doing is arresting these criminals!" Chancellor Roderick continued, gesturing at Nanyehi and Finn. "The people want justice for what's been done, not a new Inquisition!"

"It has become clear that these two did not start the Breach," Leliana said calmly.

"I am not going to stand around wasting time with petty trials and false accusations when we now have our course of action before us!" Cassandra snapped, lifting the book and slamming it for good measure. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

"I cannot approve of this!" the chancellor said.

Leliana's laugh was dark and cold. "You assume we _need _your approval, Chancellor Roderick."

The man looked at all of them with an expression of grim disbelief. Then he turned and strode out of the room.

"I think he exists purely to rile me up," Cassandra said, rubbing the back of her neck and scowling.

"Maybe he should be getting a salary for doing his job so well," Finn tried.

Cassandra smiled slightly.

Nanyehi looked down at her hand, rubbing her left palm with her thumb and squinting. "What's our course of action?" she asked. "Our words won't mean much if we don't back them up."

"I will dispatch birds with our declaration when I have a moment," Leliana said, clasping her hands behind her back. She nodded in the direction of the book on the table. "What Cassandra is referring to is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos." She paced a few steps. "This will take time and work. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

"Doesn't Cassandra lead?" Finn asked. "Or am I missing something?"

"None of us have stepped up as leaders, it is true," Cassandra said. "And I don't believe I would be fit for it. Leliana, if you would send your messages with the birds, I will brief Lady Lavellan with Cullen and Josephine. We must not tarry."

"Of course," Leliana said. She glanced at Finn, her keen, grayish blue eyes piercing through him. "Finirial, is it? Why don't you accompany me?"

"I can do that," Finn said. He was too tired to wonder why she'd asked.

He matched his stride with Leliana's as they left the building and followed the dirt path down to a large tent erected just down the hill from the Chantry. Keeping up with her was a lot easier than keeping up with some of the male guards around here; while the top of Finn's head only reached most of the men's noses, he and Leliana were about the same size. She approached an iron cage with two squawking ravens inside and reached for the locks, her gloved hands working nimbly on the lock.

"You were there, yes?" she asked him as the lock opened with a click. "Denerim. The fifth Blight. Ten years ago. I saw you amongst the Dalish."

Finn stopped, staring at her. Yes, he saw it now; a petite rogue with cropped red hair and a longbow, decked out in supple leather armor, her fair skin marred only by a few scuffs and scrapes. This was one of the women he'd seen accompanying the Hero of Ferelden when the Archdemon attempted to lay waste to the country. He barely remembered her, but now that he thought about it, she didn't even look like she'd aged in the decade since the battle. She just looked…colder. Sadder.

"I was there," he said. "My clan sent me and a few hunters to aid the clans down south. The Keeper gave me my _vallaslin _early, if I recall correctly. So I could join the fight as an adult and protect the hunters with my magic." He shifted his weight onto one hip. "I'm surprised you remember seeing me."

"I never forget a face," she said. "It helps that your _vallaslin _is so noticeable. Blue as a robin's egg."

She scrawled a message on a thin slip of parchment, then securely fastened the strip to one of the raven's legs. The bird hopped up onto her shoulder and remained there, its beady red eye staring sidelong at Finn.

"Tell me," she said, "do you remember any of the Wardens?"

Finn thought for a moment.

"Barely," he said, being vague. "I think I heard the Hero of Ferelden became Queen. And that Alistair Theirin is King. That's really all I know, unfortunately."

"There were five Wardens, you may recall," Leliana said, reaching for the second raven. "Let's see if I can jog your memory. The woman you spoke of, the Hero of Ferelden? That was my dear friend Palla Cousland. _Is _my dear friend. And you already mentioned King Alistair." She paused, writing a message for the second raven as it perched on her opposite shoulder. "Do you remember a Dalish woman? Small little thing. Dark skin, brown hair with several braids in it. Grey _vallaslin._"

Every Dalish elf in Ferelden at the time had been aware of one of their own in the Warden ranks. Finn, being young at the time and especially enthusiastic about the whole deal, had been beside himself with excitement that a Dalish could help save the world. He'd only caught a glimpse of her a couple times, but he remembered her.

Shesi Mahariel had, after all, been his first – and only – crush on a woman. It had probably been akin to hero worship back then, but it hadn't mattered to his younger self.

"I remember Warden Mahariel," he said, still being vague.

"As expected." Leliana nodded. "Now… Do you recall either of the mages? A human enchanter and an elven healer?"

Finn shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

Leliana fastened the second message to the second raven, letting it hop about on her right arm. "I am not asking you this to reminisce," she said with a sigh. "Truth be told, I was curious if your clan had come across signs of the Wardens. If they knew where they are."

A stray snowflake settled on Finn's nose; he brushed it off. "They're missing, then?"

"Yes." Both birds still perched on her, Leliana strode away, and Finn followed. "I lost contact with Shesi years ago. My only guess is that she and Zevran disappeared to keep the Crows off them…but she is not the only one. Palla and the two mages I spoke of, Corvis Nalida and Ellairia Surana, disappeared at the same time a few months back. Corvis has been Warden-Commander of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, you see, but when I wrote to them to ask about him, I received no response. King Alistair returned my letter, but it seems he does not know where his wife is." She frowned. "Or, at least, he _says _he doesn't know. Something seemed off about his letter. I believe he knows more than he's letting on. Either way, he won't _tell _me what's happened. It's all very frustrating."

"And you think these disappearances have something to do with each other?" Finn asked.

Leliana raised her arms and urged the crows into the sky; they took off with a beating of wings.

"They _must," _she said. "Ferelden's Queen, Warden-Commander, and a prominent Warden healer do not merely go missing on the same day without there being an explanation. And there is more. The Orlesian Wardens appear to be gone as well. Most troubling news."

"_All _of them?" Finn asked. "Orlesian _and _Fereldan?"

She nodded. "All."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't heard any mentions," Finn said. He shifted his feet again; the cloth wrapping didn't do much to keep the snow off his feet, and he could feel the sharp sting of the chill. "My clan would've been talking about it for days if Warden Mahariel went through the area…not to mention the Queen of Ferelden or an _entire _group of Wardens."

Leliana squared her shoulders. "No matter." She looked like she'd brushed off her wonderings, but Finn caught a bit of turmoil in her eyes. "There is another lead we can follow. I've received word of another Warden nearby by the name of Blackwall. He is in the Hinterlands, I've been informed. I think it would be wise of us to investigate with him. He may be able to explain these disappearances."

"And who will be investigating?" Finn asked.

"You will be," Leliana said.

Huh. Finn cocked his head.

"Now that we've allied with you and your sister, you've both been inducted as Inquisition agents," Leliana explained, tucking a stray bit of strawberry hair back under her hood. "We don't have a leader for any mages at the moment, so for now, you'll work under me. As for your sister… Her mark is the most important weapon we have at the moment. We'll have to accommodate that, and think of a proper position for her." She paused, thinning her lips. "If she is anything like Shesi, it will take a while for her to trust and respect us."

It would. Nanyehi didn't have the experience Finn had with fighting back-to-back with humans and dwarves; you had to drop your prejudices on the battlefield if you wanted to come out alive. Finn could foresee a fair amount of clashing in the Inquisition's future. But Nani would come around. He knew her dislike of humans stemmed from fear and uncertainty, not ethnocentrism.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Leliana said after a moment, when Finn hadn't said anything; he'd been trying to think of what to say. "I know we all appreciate it."

Finn also knew what she _hadn't _come out and said; if both Lavellan siblings had been anti-human, it would be a royal pain in the arse.

* * *

><p>Nanyehi's eyes lingered on Commander Cullen over the war table, and she felt a twinge of guilt.<p>

At the time, it had been an easy decision to abandon the soldiers fighting at the front lines and to take the safer mountain path to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Unconventional as it was, she'd had to consider her brother, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric as her makeshift hunting party, and that had meant protecting them at all costs. It should have been a simple matter. But Cullen had walked into the war room with a stiffness to his broad shoulders and told Cassandra how many men they'd lost out there, and all of a sudden, it was _real. _Personal. Not just an "oh, well, we may lose people" statement thrown into the wind, but an actual leader standing there and informing them of actual deaths. Lives lost. Bodies lying on the ice fields, left to the whims of the elements.

She was no longer certain she'd made the right decision, and it twisted her belly into knots.

Cassandra and Cullen were still talking, but she couldn't concentrate; the walls around her felt like a prison, made her chest tight and her breaths short with suppressed panic. This Chantry building was too large, to confining for a Dalish hunter who'd never set foot in such a place before.

Finn had it easier, and she thanked the gods for that. If he was suffering right along with her, she might have abandoned the whole cause, flung him over her shoulder, and stampeded out of Haven.

"We will need the Chantry's support, if we are to accomplish anything," Cassandra was saying. "Leliana has informed me of a Revered Mother helping refugees in the Hinterlands. She says this woman is influential in the Chantry, and her voice could give us some sway. "

"Then it would be best to travel to the Hinterlands and seek her out," Cullen said, looking down at Nanyehi. "Would you be amenable, Lady Lavellan?"

Always so polite. Cullen had intimidated Nanyehi at first, being so much taller than her and having a blood-spattered sword at his belt, but he'd been nothing but respectful to her, and that had eased her mind. Not to mention his eyes were warm and brown and welcoming, and he had a sort of crooked half-smile that she found oddly pleasing to look at.

Sighing, Nanyehi scratched at her left palm, trying to ease the discomfort. The burning, rotting sensation had fizzled away since they'd reached Haven, but the idea of putting herself through that amount of agony over and over again made her stomach churn.

But it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Finn would put himself through it; why couldn't she?

"I will go," she said.

She didn't see the reason for involving the Chantry – why couldn't they just recruit troops who, you know, didn't want the world to end? Not to mention Chantry involvement could be dangerous for apostates like Finn and Solas. But Nanyehi wasn't leading this Inquisition, and Cassandra was a smart, reasonable _shemlen_; if she felt Chantry support was necessary, Nani might as well go along.

The war room's door burst open, and in bustled a dark-skinned woman with her ebony hair pinned back in an exquisite braided bun. The woman's arms were laden with documents, a wooden writing board, and a couple of feather quills. When the woman's eyes landed on Nanyehi, she smiled brightly, did a half-bow without dropping anything, and said "Ah! Lady Lavellan. _Andaran atish'an."_

An interesting accent. Rolling, musical, fluid as plucking on guitar strings. Nanyehi couldn't guess where the woman was from. And her eyes were the color of polished amber – dark golden brown, vivid, full of sparkle.

"_Andaran atish'an," _Nanyehi returned. "You speak elven?"

"You've just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid," the woman said.

Drat. Nanyehi had been hoping at least one of the _shemlen_ here knew elven. At least Solas spoke it; and, of course, Finn. Her brother had studied so many ancient texts that he knew vastly more phrases than she did, and yet still chose to use curse words like "creators' balls" and "great horny halla." How he kept up his fluency was beyond her.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet," Cassandra explained, gesturing to the woman. "She handles our diplomatic affairs. I doubt we would exist without her."

"You are too kind, my lady," Josephine said, a dark rosy blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Josephine, about that meeting – " Cullen began.

"Arranged," Josephine said with a grin. "Two days from now."

"The paperwork – "

"Filled out."

"What about – "

Josephine blinked and smiled sweetly. "All done, Commander Cullen. Don't trouble yourself over such trivial matters." She returned her attention to Nanyehi. "Leliana has already spoken to me about your plans to reach out to Mother Giselle. I believe much can be gained by speaking with her."

It was obvious Josephine and Nanyehi had little in common; Nanyehi would much prefer to send arrows through people's throats then go out of her way to attempt diplomacy. But Finn's words earlier were right – not everything was black and white, and maybe not everything could be solved in Nani's usual manner.

Maybe allying with these _shemlen _wasn't such a bad thing. _Maybe._

"We will depart at dawn tomorrow," Cassandra said. "I will accompany you, of course. Be sure you are well supplied. The Hinterlands are not far from here, but we will be there a few days." She turned to Cullen. "I trust you will keep the troops in shape while we are gone."

"They will be ready for anything," Cullen said with a confident nod. His brown eyes flickered down to Nanyehi. "Travel safely."

She nodded, wondering why the room suddenly felt so much warmer.


	6. The Beardiest of Beards

_Let me first say a big thank you for your reviews and your support - you guys put a huge smile on my face!_

_I had something I wanted to say next, and then I completely forgot what that was. **Nice. **So I will say this: I'm thinking we're gonna get to see Nanyehi and Cullen start talking in the next chapter. Thoughts?_

* * *

><p><strong>The Beardiest of Beards<strong>

"As you can probably hear," Scout Harding said, gesturing down to the valley below the camp they stood in, "the fighting between the mages and rogue Templars here in the Hinterlands has gotten out of hand. We've tried to clear the area around the Crossroads, but we haven't had much luck. I'll bet you five could lend a hand."

Finn thought there wasn't much that two mages, two archers, and a Seeker couldn't do. Scratch that; they probably couldn't take down a high dragon. Or knit a half-decent quilt. Or sing in such perfect harmony that they became recognized across Thedas as the most angelic voices to ever grace the world. Varric's voice didn't seem particularly melodious.

He really needed to stop letting his thoughts derail.

"Scout Harding, you said?" Varric interjected. "Have you ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

"I can't say that I have," Harding said, shaking her head with a mystified look. "Why?"

"Because then you'd be Harding in – " Varric stopped, looking up at Cassandra, who glared down at him with enough raw force to burn down a village. "Right. Never mind."

"Ugh," Cassandra said.

Solas chuckled to himself in the background.

Finn regarded Scout Harding. She was rather pretty – and dwarven women often were – with her chestnut hair braided into a complex knot at the back of her head and green eyes the color of a forest at dusk. A smattering of freckles dotted her fair cheeks and nose. He remembered the first time he'd seen a dwarf when he'd joined the Hero of Ferelden's armies; he'd been astounded that a person could actually be _shorter _than him, not to mention the tremendous beards the men grew. He'd always been mildly fascinated by facial hair, considering he couldn't grow it and didn't even know it _existed _until he saw his first human.

Whoops. His thoughts had derailed again. _Get it together, Finn._

"_Anyway," _Nanyehi said, steering the conversation back on track, "we'll do what we can with the fighting, but our primary goals are to find Mother Giselle and track down this Warden Blackwall. Can you point us in the direction of the Crossroads?"

"Right down that way," the lead scout said, drawing her finger in a wide arc. "Take the path down the hill and keep right. You can't miss it. You'll probably hear the screaming, anyway."

"_Ma serannas, durgen'len," _Nanyehi said.

"I have no idea what you just said, Herald, but I'll take it as a thank you." Scout Harding smiled politely and took a step back. "If you need me, I'll be here at camp keeping everything in order. Stay safe out there. The mages and Templars haven't been particularly reasonable." With that, she turned and strode away, stopping to lean over a low table and pick up a quill.

Nanyehi frowned.

Finn knew she hadn't been pleased when Cassandra had informed her the people around Haven were referring to her as the Herald of Andraste. Not to mention the title was starting to spread – helped by Leliana and Josephine, of course, who referred to Nani as such in just about all of their writings. Neither Finn nor Nanyehi believed in the _shemlen _Maker or his prophet, so it seemed an absurd idea for a Dalish hunter to be said prophet's "chosen herald"… But no amount of scowling on Nanyehi's part erased the whisperings. They thought Andraste had guided her out of the rift, and that was that.

"Say, Varric," Finn said. "About that book of yours – "

Varric grinned. "Not to worry, Frosty. You'll have copies of Hard in Hightown's chapters as soon as my publisher ships them. On the house, of course."

"You're the best, Varric."

"I know."

"We should make for the Crossroads," Cassandra said, taking the first step down the hill. "Our forces cannot hold forever."

"I agree," Nanyehi said, joining her. The two women matched strides, and the three men followed; after a moment, Finn heard Nanyehi and Cassandra strike up a tentative conversation about what to do if they did encounter any of these rebel forces. More like _when, _really.

The Hinterlands, Finn noticed, were _beautiful. _The dirt path they walked was lined by rich green grasses waving in a slight breeze, and wildflowers of peachy yellow and crimson and vivid blue. Wind whispered through the oaks around them, and as Finn looked up at the waving branches, he could almost imagine the trees' spirits reaching out to him, brushing him with their soft, unseen fingers.

"You know anything about this area, Solas?" Finn asked as they walked.

"This area has a rich history, as you might imagine," Solas answered, his storm-blue eyes crinkling slightly with remembrance. "There's a village in the northeast, Redcliffe, that stood against the Fifth Blight. We walk on the same ground that the Hero of Ferelden and her companions walked on ten years ago. The Veil is thin here, and the memories are strong."

Finn paused to consider that Shesi Mahariel had once been here, perhaps walking exactly where he walked now; what had the Wardens been doing then? Trading jokes? Trying to soldier through their aching feet and sore limbs? Had Shesi been a lot like Nanyehi, preferring to keep to herself, or did she ever join in the conversations and maybe banter back and forth with someone?

It was easy to fall back into hero-worship, when Solas mentioned these things.

"Are you glad Cassandra hasn't turned you into the Templars, Chuckles?" Varric asked Solas. "I suppose you're in danger too, Frosty."

"It is a fear of mine, I'll admit," Solas said. "Finirial may be in less danger, especially if Cassandra follows through with her idea on getting him formally trained as a knight-enchanter. The Chantry would ignore him at that point."

Finn rolled his shoulders around, loosening them. "She wouldn't let anyone take you either, Solas. She pretends to hate all of our guts, but I think she trusts you."

"A reassuring sentiment," Solas said with a slight smile.

"Not to mention she can't possibly resist your luscious hair," Finn said, motioning to Solas's bald head.

Solas's laugh was little more than a sharp breath out through his nose. "I imagine Varric's chest hair is a much more realistic fascination of hers."

"And that's why I wear these coats," Varric said, fingering the plunging collar of his warm overcoat. "I just couldn't keep this all to myself. Thedas needs it."

Finn snorted.

The dirt switchbacks down the hill were steep, and littered with small pebbles that could easily slip out from under one's feet, but a Dalish elf rarely tripped. Finn had spent so many years trekking uncomfortable terrain – and he knew Nani had done the same – that his feet could grip onto just about any surface. It was too hazardous for an elf to take a hard fall; they didn't exactly have a lot of cushion to keep their lean bones from snapping on impact.

A scout greeted them at the bottom of the hill, saluting to Cassandra and Nanyehi. "We've been trying to hold the Crossroads, but we're getting overrun," he announced, pointing ahead of them. "If you could aid us – "

"Of course," Cassandra said, motioning the rest of them forward.

They followed the scout, and Finn nearly sighed in exasperation at the sight that greeted them as they rounded the corner. It was a veritable fiasco of Templars in heavy plate mail charging at screaming mages, the latter of which raising their staves high and sending a nightmarish storm of frost, sparks, and little balls of fire hailing down on the ground and trees and boulders. A Templar charged a mage with a brutish war cry, knocking the spellcaster to the ground and trampling him to death.

"Hold!" Cassandra shouted when a couple of Templars turned their way. "We are not apostates!"

"Speak for yourself!" Finn said, pulling his staff off the bindings at his back.

"I do not think they care either way, Seeker!" Solas yelled, dodging nimbly out of the way of a Templar's sword.

The fighting, thankfully, did not last long once it started; Finn and Solas focused on the enemy spellcasters, who wouldn't be expecting attacks of the elemental variety, and Cassandra kept the rogue Templars focused on her, aided by Nanyehi and Varric, who Finn saw aimed for the chinks in the men's armor. None of these rebels were expecting the Inquisition. The last to fall was a Templar armored to the teeth and carrying a tower shield nearly as tall as he was; a well-aimed ice bolt through the skull put him out of his misery. By the end of it all Finn's arms and hands tingled with the surge of raw mana, the power of it seeping into his veins and making his heart thrum in his ribcage; with a deep breath he pressed the butt of his staff against the ground, trying to force his body to calm itself.

Varric strode up to Finn, hoisting Bianca behind his back. "I think I should take a running total of every type of enemy that tries to kill us," the dwarf said. "So far, we're up to crazy mages, crazy Templars, and crazy demons. This reminds me _way _too much of Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall sounds like a shithole," Finn commented, scuffing his foot against the tight leg of his tunic to rub some stray dirt off it.

"True," Varric said, "but it had Hawke in it."

Finn watched Cassandra and Nanyehi approach the remaining Inquisition scouts, then saw a couple break away from the group and begin ushering people out of the scattered wooden buildings. "Where's the Champion now?" he asked.

"Last I heard from her, she and Fenris were in the northern Free Marches taking down Tevinter slavers," Varric mentioned, straightening his coat. "Her last letter also contained an account of how turned on Fenris gets from killing those guys. I kept it. It was hilarious. Not to mention it may serve as good blackmail if I ever need something out of Ser Broody."

"I regret listening in on this conversation," Solas said from somewhere on Finn's right.

"You have a strange relationship with Hawke," Finn said, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.

"I have a strange relationship with _all _of my friends, Frosty," Varric said, looking proud. "You should meet Isabela sometime. You'd _love _her."

A hand wave caught Finn's attention out of the corner of his eye; he looked over to see Nanyehi motion him over again, her big turquoise full of unease. Finn nodded to Varric and joined Nanyehi and Cassandra, and his sister put a hand on his arm, leaning up to speak to him in a hushed voice.

"One of the scouts is fetching Mother Giselle," she informed him. "Finn, I'm…not very good at being diplomatic. You know that. And this is the _shemlen_ _Chantry. _Could you step in if I get too combative? I don't want to mess this up."

Cassandra glanced down at them both. "You will do fine, Nanyehi," she said. "You're more diplomatic than _I _am, after all. But I think the first step in the right direction would be to refer to us as _humans._"

Nanyehi's brows knit together.

"I'm here," Finn reassured her. "If I have to, I'll just punch you in the back of the head and drag you back to camp by your feet."

Cassandra laughed.

"Well, uh…thanks," Nani said, shrugging her thin shoulders. "That's…helpful."

"I'm a giver," Finn said.

Nanyehi, however, was a little more well-schooled than she gave herself credit for; the Dalish weren't _complete _forest savages, after all. She greeted Mother Giselle politely when the woman strode up to the three of them, and managed not to scream anything to the likes of "die, _shem," _or "your people were jackasses to my people" or "I hope you get a venereal disease and suffer alone." Those were obviously extremes, but Finn was proud of Nani's serene exterior nonetheless. He remembered it being difficult for him to put aside his differences…but she was no idiot. She'd manage.

"I received word of your Inquisition by bird before you arrived," Mother Giselle said, clasping her hands in front of her. "I hear you are the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste. I fear the Chantry has already denounced you and the organization. They are calling you heretics. I will not repeat the rest of what they say."

_I'm sure the rest of it has something to do with Nanyehi being a so-called knife-eared savage, _Finn mused.

"Chancellor Roderick's work, no doubt," Nanyehi said. "I imagine he sent birds ahead of us."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

The revered mother's nearly black eyes were calm, gentle. "I am familiar with those behind the denouncement," she said. "I won't lie to you; some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine."

"To do so shames Most Holy's memory," Cassandra said angrily. Her right hand twitched, touching the hilt of her sword. Finn felt the static charge of her anger.

Mother Giselle breathed a heavy sigh. "Some are simply terrified, you see. So many people, senselessly taken from us. Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason."

"Then you must see that the Inquisition seeks only to restore order," Nanyehi said. "If we can't do that, many more lives will be at stake. That should be obvious to _everyone."_

"I do see," Mother Giselle said. "And I will offer you my support, and do my part. But my voice alone cannot accomplish everything you need. You must go to them. Convince the remaining clerics in Val Royeaux you are no demon to be feared. In the time it took for you to reach me here, only frightful tales have spread of you. Give them something else to believe."

Nanyehi shook her head vehemently. "There is _no way _a bunch of Chantry clerics would listen to a Dalish hunter. None. I'd sooner believe my brother was actually a druffalo."

"I'm inclined to agree," Cassandra said.

"You don't need them all to believe," Giselle said. "You just need some of them to _doubt. _Their power is their unified voice. Take it from them."

Nanyehi was silent. She lifted her hand, palm-up, and stared down at the iridescent green scar marring her pale skin.

"Your mark troubles you," the revered mother said. "I honestly don't know, Lady Lavellan, if you were touched by fate or sent to help us…but I _hope. _Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build this Inquisition into a force that will deliver us…or destroy us." She paused, smoothing down her frocks. "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can."

"Our scouts can escort you there," Cassandra said.

Nanyehi bowed her head politely. "Thank you, Revered Mother."

"Thank _you," _Mother Giselle said. "For giving us something to hope for." With that, she turned and walked silently away, returning to a group of villagers clustered around an occupied sickbed.

"I don't know about this," Nanyehi said to Finn and Cassandra. "Going to Val Royeaux might make things worse. I'm not the greatest at addressing a crowd."

"I think we should," Cassandra said. "And I will accompany you. But we can speak more of this back at Haven."

But first, Finn thought, they'd have to find this Warden Blackwall.

* * *

><p>Scout Harding's directions pointed them to Lake Luthias, a serene high-elevation lake with a cabin or two dotting its grassy shores. Finn breathed in deeply as they climbed the dirt path up to the lake, enjoying the scents of fresh water and oak and soft loam. The wind stirred his soft, ice-white hair, feathering it over his forehead until he blew upwards to fluff it away.<p>

"I know of a spirit who resides in this lake," Solas was saying, thumping the butt of his staff on the ground with each step like a walking stick. "The village girls like to ask it for help with their love affairs, but it is a spirit of valor. It will not help with those matters."

"So, let me get this straight," Finn said, "you said you actually _fall asleep _wherever possible so you can experience memories? Don't you worry about, I don't know, literally anything attacking you?"

"I set wards, of course," Solas said.

"Is that – " Cassandra interrupted from the front.

"Look!" Nanyehi said, pointing. "It's a bear! See her?"

Finn paled.

In front of them, nosing around in the weeds near the lake's shore, was a big grizzly bear, her sandy brown fur ruffled and dotted with pollen. The padding of her great paws rumbled the earth beneath them, and Finn felt the knot in his belly explode into full-blown fear. His vision blurred, and for a moment he lost himself to his own memories.

_Charging like a warrior. Staff raised high. The barrier will hold. He can fight anything like this. He's unbeatable._

He barely heard his breaths speeding up.

_Not enough studying. The technique is wrong, unpracticed. The barrier breaks. The armor won't be enough. This was a mistake. He's not unbeatable, is he?_

"Finn?" Nani asked, turning around to look at him. He barely saw her.

_Claws ripping him open, tearing into his insides. Teeth scraping his cheek. Screaming. White hot pain. The metallic stench of blood and innards. He's dying. All for his foolish enthusiasm. All for his desire to master a technique that had been lost to the ages. _

_Clansmen yelling for him. Arrows. A hunting party coming his way._

He snapped his teeth together, breaking out of the flashback. It had been a year since he'd been mauled by that great bear. He should be able to handle the sight of a grizzly. And yet he still felt the usual cold sweat on his hands, the painful tightening of every muscle, the dull ache of scars where the bear's claws had once torn into him.

"She won't attack," Nanyehi said; suddenly she was beside him, her lithe arm wrapped around his waist. "And even if she does, I'll kill her. All right? You're my brother. Nothing hurts you."

Finn saw Cassandra, Varric, and Solas staring at him, obviously not comprehending the sudden panic that had come over him; from the understanding in their eyes, though, they seemed to be familiar with this sort of reaction.

"I know," he said, sorting himself out with a grunt and a violent shake of his head.

The bear, unsurprisingly, had moved on from sniffing around the lake shore and was currently ambling away from them; Finn watched it for just a second, then looked away, swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat.

If it hadn't been for that hunting party, the bear would've eaten him alive a year ago. He vividly recalled Nanyehi shrieking at the bear and throwing herself at it like a wildcat, the shrill whistles of arrows all around him. Ten Dalish hunters had finally taken the beast down. Only Keeper Istimaethoriel's magic had knit together Finn's broken body and saved his life that day.

Nani probably thought Finn was a lunatic for jumping in front of the pride demon at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. But what kind of man didn't jump in front of death itself to protect his sister?

Bears, though. Finn would sooner wet himself in front of a bear than effectively protect Nanyehi. Not the most masculine mental image, but, well…the memories were still strong.

"I see people ahead," Cassandra said, pointing. "By the docks. See?"

Finn focused where she pointed, aware that Nani's arm was still tight around his middle. Indeed, there was a man in armor of grey steel and royal blue with a thick steel breastplate, pacing back and forth in front of a group of three men in ragged homespun tunics. He held a crude wooden shield high and shouted something Finn couldn't quite decipher, though he caught the words "you're not hiding, you're holding." If this was indeed Warden Blackwall, perhaps he was schooling recruits?

"Let's go," Finn said. "I'd make a shoddy Inquisition agent for Leliana if I didn't at least _talk _to the guy."

"I'll come with you," Nanyehi said, letting go of Finn. "Cassandra, Varric, Solas, hold back."

Finn approached him, purposely not looking down at the bear's heavy pawprints in the soil beneath his feet. The Warden didn't even notice him, not until Finn cleared his throat and said, "Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?"

The man saw him then, and looked over at him with the expression of someone who had just had an important meeting interrupted by some incompetent messenger – which, Finn thought, might _actually _be what the Warden thought about the whole situation. The second thing Finn noticed, beyond Blackwall's dour expression and the narrowing of his deep-set eyes, was his _beard_. He had a strange desire to touch it and see if it was actually as soft and thick as it looked; not to mention Finn had always been fascinated by hair like that, as black as pure pitch.

"Who? – " Blackwall began, striding closer to Finn. "I don't think I know you… How do you know my name? Who sent – "

A second later Blackwall grunted and threw his shield in front of Finn's head; Finn heard the distinct _twang _of an arrow sinking into the wood.

_Well. _Good reflexes.

"_Hey!" _Nanyehi yelled at whoever had fired the shot, ripping her bow from her back and nocking an arrow. Three men burst out from behind a stand of trees, flailing their weapons above their heads like they were part of a magnificent war charge.

"That's it!" Blackwall said, unsheathing his sword. "Whoever you are, help or get out! We're dealing with these idiots first!"

The "fight" was almost a joke. Blackwall's recruits barely had any time to even use their axes and shields; Nanyehi's arrow sunk deep into one of the men's skulls with a sickening thunk, and Finn froze another man solid with a twist of his hand. Blackwall cleaved down the third one, staring down at the man's body with a frown. It was a shame, Finn thought, the rapidfire loss of lives, but he hadn't _asked _these men to shoot an arrow nearly through his head. Rather rude, come to think of it.

"Sorry bastards," Blackwall said, shaking his head. He looked over at Finn. "I take it you're a _mage, _then, considering you turned that poor sod into a giant icicle."

He had, hadn't he? Finn's first thought upon noticing the man's frozen form, arm still held high, mouth still open in a yell, was that he'd probably killed him in the most arsehole way possible. The man was clearly not suffering any longer, at least; when the ice finally melted in the warm afternoon sun, perhaps someone could salvage his armor.

Speaking of… Finn heard scuffling off to his right, and saw Nanyehi on her knees next to a body, rifling through his pockets and pulling out a bag of gold coins.

"_Nani," _Finn said. "Not in front of – "

"This _shem _won't need it," Nanyehi protested, picking up the man's axe and studying it. "You think I can trade this for something with one of the craftsmen at Haven?" She made a surprised noise and unceremoniously dropped the axe, plucking a small stone out of the man's breeches pocket and holding it up so its rich grape color caught the sunlight. "Hey, Varric! Look at this!"

"Amethyst!" Varric called over. "Might be valuable!"

Gods almighty. Finn tried not to chuckle and failed.

"Ser Blackwall?" one of the recruits inquired, looking confused.

Blackwall turned back to them, approaching them. "That may not have been a fair fight, but now you lot know the basics of defending yourselves," he said. "My work here is done. Take back what they stole. Go home to your families. You can save yourselves now."

The recruits filed off, their shoulders held a little prouder than they were before. It seemed Blackwall had been trying to teach them some self-defense; knowing that now, Finn wished he hadn't made a giant ice-crystal out of one of the assailants so they could've at least fought _someone._ Too late, though.

"You're no farmer," Blackwall said, fixing his eyes on Finn. "Mind telling me who you are, and how you know my name?"

"I suppose if you want to call me what everyone's been calling me lately, you may address me as Ser Unnamed Accomplice," Finn said. "Pleased to meet you."

"What in the – " Blackwall started.

"We're agents of the Inquisition, stationed in Haven," Nanyehi said, standing and joining them. She gave him a look that distinctly said _cut-the-crap-Finn._ "My name's Nanyehi. This is my brother, Finirial. Our spymaster gave us the news that both Fereldan and Orlesian Grey Wardens have disappeared, and we're looking for information. "

"Also, I don't know if you've heard," Finn said, "but Divine Justinia was murdered in an explosion at the Conclave in Haven, among hundreds of others. Either whoever killed her has something to do with the disappearances, or…"

Or the Wardens _did_ it. Weird thought, and something Finn wasn't really willing to entertain, given his involvement with them ten years ago. But rumors were flying.

"Maker's balls," Blackwall cursed. "You think the _Wardens _have something to do with whatever explosion you just – no, you're asking, so you don't really know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "First off, I didn't even _know _they'd disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done. Wardens are the first thing forgotten."

"You didn't know?" Finn asked. "Aren't you worried about where Warden-Commander Nalida might be? His disappearance alone is worrisome enough."

"Barely know the guy," Blackwall grunted. "It's not like he and I have weekly tea time."

Odd. If Blackwall had a high enough rank in the Fereldan Grey Wardens to be out recruiting, then shouldn't he have at least been familiar with Warden-Commander Nalida? Finn had seen him at Denerim ten years ago, and it wasn't as if the former enchanter scared off people; Finn remembered a big grin and friendly, exotic amber eyes. There was, however, one Warden who had achieved a higher rank than even Corvis Nalida.

"You have to have at least _heard _of Queen Cousland-Theirin," Finn tried. "We can't trace where she is, either. And it begs the question, if they led the Wardens somewhere, why haven't you gone with them? I'm – "

Blackwall looked frustrated. "I've been recruiting alone out in the Ferelden frontier. Haven't seen any Wardens for months. I've been sending the new recruits off to Warden-Commander Nalida and looking for more. Except for these sods – I "conscripted" them so they could fend off those thieves. But you can imagine recruits are sparse, since the Archdemon is a decade dead. And there's no need to actually conscript because there's no Blight coming. So no, I haven't disappeared with the rest of them, I've barely seen them, and I don't know where they've gone off to." He sighed. "Wish I did."

Finn blinked, thought a moment, and decided it just wasn't worth it to drive Warden Blackwall insane.

"One thing I'll tell you," Blackwall said firmly, "is no Warden exploded the Divine. Get that notion out of your heads. Our purpose isn't political."

"I'm not here to accuse," Finn backtracked. "I'm just looking for information."

"The only thing I can think of is that Warden-Commander Nalida might've taken them back to the stronghold in Weisshaupt," Blackwall said. "That's in the Anderfels, pretty damn far north. Other than that, I don't really know. Can't imagine why else they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they've gone off to. Nalida is Antivan; maybe he took them there or something. I might've missed a runner telling me to join them."

It didn't seem like something the Wardens would do, go skipping off to Antiva without so much as a _how-do-you-do_, but Finn could only garner one thing from this conversation; Warden Blackwall didn't know where they'd gone either. And he'd avoided the question about Ferelden's Queen. Nanyehi scuffed her foot against the dirt next to him, rubbing the palm of her left hand.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Ser Blackwall," Finn said, taking a step back. "I suppose I'll have to search elsewhere. Thanks for your time."

"Hold a moment," Blackwall said. "You're Inquisition agents, you said? I've seen the tears in the sky. They've been popping up all over the Hinterlands. And the Divine is dead. If you're aiming to restore order, I'd rather join the cause than sit on my arse and think I'm not affected." He stood up a little straighter. "If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me."

"What could one Warden do?" Nanyehi asked from Finn's side. "Don't we need _armies _for this?"

"You haven't seen Wardens fight, Nani," Finn reminded her. "I have. They're _ferocious. _Not to mention only five of them damn well saved the world ten years ago." He smiled at Blackwall. "I say let's do it. No harm in you joining us."

"Good to hear," Blackwall said, giving Finn the first smile since he'd locked eyes on him; no, smile was too strong a word for the tiniest twitch at the corner of Blackwall's mouth. But it was something. "Perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. Haven, you say? I'll meet you there."

"No need," Nanyehi said. "Our business is finished in the Hinterlands for now, so we're returning to Haven. I…suppose you can accompany us back."

Blackwall nodded his understanding. "Good. Been a while since I had someone to talk to."

That was an interesting twist of fate. Finn smiled to himself, hoping the six of them wouldn't murder each other for something horribly petty before they reached Haven.

Sadly…it was a possibility.


	7. The Smallest of Sparks

_Finished this early. Have some Cullen!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Smallest of Sparks<strong>

Nanyehi shifted her weight onto one hip and watched little flakes of snow settle over Haven as Harritt – Haven's resident gruff, bearded blacksmith – knelt by her right leg, tightening the leather straps on her newly fitted greaves. Every so often he tugged too hard and nearly knocked her off balance, but she always readjusted herself in time; the idea of toppling over and falling on top of the blacksmith made her way too nervous.

"That's that for the greaves," Harritt said, giving her right shin one last pat and standing up. "How's the armor feel?"

Nanyehi looked down at herself. These straps and blue silk brocade wrappings and buttons and buckles were extremely foreign to her, but _warm; _she no longer felt like her teeth were chattering so hard that they'd grind each other to a stump. She flexed her fingers within the leather gloves, grateful for the supple softness of the material.

"It fits well," she said. "Warm, too. _Ma serannas."_

"I'm going to assume that's elf for 'thank you'," Harritt grunted, tugging at his scruffy, red-brown beard. "In any case, you're welcome. If you ever find an armor piece you'd like upgraded, or think of something you want crafted, you take it to me. I'll get it sorted out." He turned and shuffled away, stopping to scrutinize an apprentice hammering away at a greatsword on the forge.

It probably hadn't been easy for Harritt, adjusting to Nanyehi's different proportions, but he hadn't skimped on her armor, and she had to thank him for that. _He doesn't half-ass, _Finn probably would've said. She paused to marvel that she'd stood still and let a human man near her for an extended period without fleeing for the hills. Change was in the air, wasn't it?

They'd arrived in Haven from the Hinterlands two days ago. Finn had spent much of the two days in Haven's tavern trading stories with Varric, occasionally traveling up the hill to ask Solas about his journeys; every time Nanyehi caught them talking, she saw a smile creeping onto Solas's face. For all his hermit-like appearance, he seemed to enjoy Finn's enthusiasm for learning.

Finn was good at that. Listening. Learning. Putting smiles on people's faces. Now that they were surrounded by people here in Haven, Nanyehi found herself wishing often that she had her older brother's talents.

As for her, she'd largely spent the two days in Haven alone, save for being fitted for armor and speaking with Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine about their next course of action. The Lady Ambassador in particular seemed to approve of Mother Giselle's admonishments to address the Chantry in Val Royeaux, and everyone else had reluctantly admitted their support of the idea. It made Nanyehi nervous beyond belief, but she'd do it. She had to. Much as she wanted to march up the mountain right now and attempt to close the Breach herself, she knew she didn't have the strength. Nor did they have the manpower to stop whoever or whatever had caused the explosion in the first place.

Her gaze swept over the snow-covered training grounds, and she cracked the slightest of smiles. Cassandra had been hammering that straw dummy with her sword for at least an hour now, so much that the dummy in question had flaxen chunks of straw littering the ground around it. Cassandra made a disgusted face and swung again, her black eyebrows nearly knitted together.

Nani decided to step out of her comfort zone. Adjusting her small leather overcoat, she stepped over to Cassandra, treading so lightly in the snow that her new boots barely made prints.

"Shall we put a red wig on that dummy, paint it with green _vallaslin, _and call it 'that infuriating Dalish woman'?" Nani asked when Cassandra made a particularly vicious cut into it.

Cassandra took a step back, sheathed her sword, and smiled slightly. "Sometimes it seems like I'd want that, doesn't it?" she said. "I should apologize to you, Lady Lavellan. We started off on the wrong foot, and I believe much of that is my fault."

"I…well…thank you," Nani said. She struggled to think of what to say. _Curses, why is Finn so much better at this? _

"I wanted someone to blame," Cassandra said with a heavy sigh. "And there you and your brother were, looking like the perfect suspects. I was not thinking straight at that moment." She ran a hand through her cropped ebony hair. "I want you to know that this Inquisition will do all it can to make sure neither you nor your brother come to harm. Finirial will not be taken in for apostacy if I have a say in the matter. I think that's the least I can do for what you have suffered."

There'd been a tight cord of fear constricting Nani's heart, but she felt it relax its hold just a little.

"That…means a lot, Lady Pentaghast," she said. "I – "

"You may call me Cassandra," she interrupted. "Perhaps being more familiar with each other will make things between us less…antagonistic."

Good plan. "You can call me Nanyehi, then," Nani said.

"I will." Cassandra smiled. For all her sharp, exotic features, she had a pleasant smile, one that lit up her face and softened her dark eyes. "I wonder sometimes… Did I do the right thing? Starting this Inquisition?"

"You're asking _me_?"

Cassandra sighed again. "I don't always think before I act, as you know," she said. "I am too brash, I've been told. I see something that needs to be done, and I do it. I don't like wasting time, hoping someone else will make the hard decisions when I will not. But this… Did I make the right one? The Chantry has _denounced us, _Nanyehi. How far will we possibly get without Chantry support?"

"Maybe we won't need them," Nani tried. "Or maybe they'll come around. Who cares? We're out here trying to save the world and restore order. That's a cause everyone can get behind, isn't it? It can't be _controversial." _She eyed the shimmering green scar on her palm. "Yeah, so they think I'm some false prophet or whatnot – let them. I don't want them to bow down to me or anything. I just want to not _die."_

"You are right." Cassandra gripped the bottom of her breastplate, adjusting it. "We cannot give up, no matter what. There is too much at stake." She turned to walk away, then paused, looking back at Nanyehi. "Thank you. My head is a little clearer now."

"Mine, too," Nanyehi said mostly to herself, watching Cassandra walk away for a moment.

She wasn't sure what to do, now, while waiting to be summoned to the war room. The thought of hunting nugs outside Haven's walls crossed her mind, but with the village's close proximity to the Breach, she wasn't certain tromping around in the wilderness by herself was such a good idea. Lady Josephine had gushed about Nani's hair earlier and offered to braid it – she said the red-wine color was the loveliest she'd seen in quite a while – and Nani was considering taking her up on that offer when she sensed someone approaching her.

"Lady Lavellan!" Commander Cullen greeted her, wiping snow off his thick blond hair with a gauntleted hand. "There you are. I thought I'd discuss some things with you. Walk with me?"

Nanyehi only realized she'd released a rather pent-up breath when she saw it fog up in front of her face. Confused by herself, she looked up at him, marveling at how tall human men were – she only came up to his shoulder, it seemed. Finn only reached Cullen's nose, so at least she wasn't _alone _in that regard.

"I…of course," she said.

She noticed as they walked through the snow that Cullen slowed down his stride for her, making it so she didn't have to jog to keep up with his long legs. He only stopped to check on a written request sent by a runner, then handed it back to the scout and continued.

"I assume you're aware of how powerful the Breach is," he said, glancing up at it. Nani studied his profile as he did so. "I believe we have two options in that regard. We can approach the rebel mages in the Hinterlands for more power for your mark, or we can seek out the Templar order to suppress the Breach's magic." His laugh was light, breathy. "None of us have been able to come to a consensus on this matter."

"To be honest, Templars scare me," Nanyehi said bluntly. "I was always afraid one of them would find my clan and take Finn away."

"I feel like I should inform you that I was a Templar once," Cullen said.

Nani opened her mouth in surprise, attempted to say something, and tripped over a rock hidden beneath the snow.

She flailed her arms in front of her to break her impact, but it turned out there was no need. Cullen grabbed her before she fell, helping her upright as if she weighed little more than a piece of parchment. His hands lingered there on her arms for a second more than she thought they would; then he pulled them away and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

Nani's face flamed. Here she'd been all proud of the fact that Dalish elves rarely tripped just a moment ago, and then she'd let her foot get caught on a rock like a bumbling idiot. She picked at her lip, then composed herself with a deep, shuddering breath. Cullen was watching her expectantly.

"Thank you," she said. "I – I'm sorry about that. I must've been caught off guard." She cleared her own throat. "You were saying?"

"No harm done, my lady," he said with a pleasant half-smile. He resumed his course for the village's front gate, and Nanyehi kept pace with him. "As I was saying, I was a Templar until I left the order just recently. I first served in Ferelden's circle, but I was in Kirkwall for a while. I hear you come from the Free Marches as well? Were you near Kirkwall?"

Nani shook her head. "Northern. Mostly near Tantervale and Starkhaven." She scuffed her new boots in the snow as she walked, kicking up little white tufts. "Is it killing you that Finn and Solas are here?"

Cullen chuckled. "Not at all. It took the rebellion in Kirkwall to make me finally see straight, but I've since realized that mages are not the sole cause of Thedas's problems. Mages like your brother and Solas, well… They're here to help, are they not? I would be a fool to treat them with less respect." He stopped a few paces from the gate, turning to face her. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. I didn't treat mages well in the past. I suppose there's one mage I wish I could apologize to more than anything. But I want you to know I wouldn't do anything to compromise your brother's safety." His warm brown eyes flickered briefly away from her. "Or yours, for that matter."

"I guess this mark is pretty damn important to our cause," Nani said, lifting her hand.

"Ah, right. The mark. Of course." Cullen's brows furrowed briefly. "Does it hurt you? How are you faring?"

"I'm all right," she insisted. "I prefer not to whine about my troubles."

Cullen shifted, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword. The wind ruffled the thick feathers on the mantle wrapped about his armor. "If I may be so bold, you've been through quite the circumstances. I cannot even begin to imagine being sucked into the Fade and falling out with that _thing _on your hand. It isn't whining to say you're in pain. Nor is it whining to say you're bothered by what's happening." He passed a hand over his forehead. "But I'm making assumptions. Forgive me."

"No, no… You're right," Nani said. Before she could contain herself, she gave him a bright smile. "Thank you for asking. I appreciate it."

For reasons unknown to her, Cullen's cheeks reddened slightly. He coughed into his fist.

A bell tolled in the Chantry, its clear notes ringing through the snowy Haven air. Nanyehi looked towards the looming wooden building, knowing why they were being summoned to the war room; Leliana and Josephine probably wished to discuss the upcoming journey to Val Royeaux, and prep Nanyehi on how to effectively speak to a group of Chantry folks.

It would be an understatement to say Nani was _not _looking forward to Val Royeaux.

"Shall we?" Cullen asked, gesturing up the hill towards the Chantry.

As she walked next to Cullen to the war room, Nani found herself edging just an inch closer. Maybe it was because he radiated warmth. Maybe it was because he'd been nice to her.

Maybe it was something else, something she didn't understand.


	8. Moving Forward, Looking Back

_So...we've all done this "address the chantry in val royeaux" quest, right? Yes? I'm sure at least **one **of you reacted the way Finn does. ...Because that's how I reacted. ...I may be an awful person._

* * *

><p><strong>Moving Forward, Looking Back<strong>

Warm sun ghosted over Finn's skin, golden light dappling over his light tan where he stood under the sprawling branches of the tree, Ferelden's perpetual chill finally thawed from his bones. Val Royeaux's summer bazaar was a melody of colors and sounds – sapphire blue banners draped pleasingly over strong ivory pillars and verandas, window trimmings in garnet and emerald and peony pink, noble women and men chattering in animated voices as they strolled by in elegant garments of all hues. The women wore painted masks, their hair done up in high buns and weaves and braids, covered all over with silk flowers of all colors. One could get lost here, Finn mused, lost in the sights and smells and people.

It was a shame, then, that his and Nanyehi's first trip to the grand city of Val Royeaux had been spoiled by the ruckus in the middle of the bazaar.

They'd been greeted a little while ago by one of Leliana's scouts, who had warned them that Val Royeaux's citizens were already suspicious of the Inquisition and its elven Herald – a claim that had been verified by one woman screaming bloody murder and shuffling away from Nanyehi at the sight of her. No matter; that could be ignored. It hadn't dampened Nani's determination.

Addressing the Chantry, however, had been a different story.

Not only had Nani been called every name in the book – elven savage, etc, Finn couldn't remember all the unimaginative nicknames humans had for the Dalish – but the Chantry priestess had even gone so far as to label Nanyehi a "false prophet" and point a wobbling finger at her, accusing her of murdering the Divine. Both Nani and Cassandra had handled the situation well, trying their best to firmly squelch any rumors about Nani being an explosion-happy killer, but then…

"Finn," Nanyehi said, "I _still _can't believe you laughed out loud when that Templar punched her in the head."

Ah, yes. _That._

Not his finest moment, probably. But the woman had been rattling off holier-than-thou accusations and making his blood boil, announcing that the Templars and their leader, Lord Seeker Lucius, were here to back her up…and her _face _when the tables had turned and one Templar had marched up the steps of the wooden platform she stood on and put her lights out… Finn had found it so unexpectedly hilarious (not to mention satisfying, considering that sort of petty revenge was right up his alley) that he'd snorted, started cackling, and crept out of the crowd to avoid embarrassing anyone.

"Come on, you can't _blame _him," Varric said.

"Inappropriate laughter aside," Cassandra said, turning her sharp gaze to where the priestess sat on the wooden dais, several helpers holding her upright and pressing ice to her bruised head, "I do not understand Lord Seeker Lucius's actions."

Finn briefly remembered Lord Seeker Lucius's face before he'd left the crowd; thin brownish hair pulled back, pock-marks all over his pale skin, shifty green eyes and a contemptuous expression. The Lord Seeker had sanctioned the priestess-punching, apparently, although Finn had caught an "I didn't do that for _your _amusement" immediately following. Why he allowed it, one might never know.

"He's an arse," Nanyehi said. "And obviously, we won't be getting any Templar support. Hopefully the Chantry is at least on the fence, like Mother Giselle said… I can't help but feel like we've wasted all our time."

She was right, unfortunately. Lord Seeker Lucius had declared Val Royeaux unfit for Templar protection and had marched his troops right out the gates, leaving a very confused and startled crowd of Orlesians around the platform. Not to mention he'd scoffed at Cassandra when she'd tried to converse with him, which obviously bothered her.

"He was not always like this," Cassandra said, looking mystified. "He is a good man. Not one for grandstanding."

"Was, you mean?" Finn corrected.

Solas leaned on his wooden staff. "Something does indeed seem wrong, Seeker. I can feel it."

"Something _is _wrong," Cassandra said firmly. "It must be. And I believe this is worth investigating, if we are able. Perhaps the Lord Seeker can be reasoned with. We do not want the Templars as enemies."

"Maybe," Nani said, "but – "

Two things happened at once. First, an arrow whizzed out from nowhere and hit the ground a couple of inches from Blackwall's boot, clattering to a stop; at almost the same time a messenger ran up to Nanyehi clutching a note in his hand, then ducked and covered his head with an unceremonious yelp when the arrow's trajectory missed him by a hair.

"Who shot that?" Cassandra exclaimed, spinning around to face the direction the arrow had come from. The messenger recovered from his shock and handed Nanyehi the note just as Blackwall bent and plucked the arrow off the ground. Nanyehi read the note as the messenger jogged away, and Blackwall unwrapped a red leather cord from around the arrow's shaft, pulling a rolled up piece of parchment.

"Here you go," Blackwall said, handing the little rolled-up slip to Finn. "Don't know what it's about, but I'm sure it's not for my eyes. You are an Inquisition agent, after all, not me."

"That I am," Finn said, unrolling it. Blackwall _could _be a little blunt at times, and tended towards the grim side of things, and _really _didn't appreciate Finn's incessant questioning about the Grey Wardens he'd met along the way – hey, Finn just liked to talk – but he did have a good deal of respect for Finn's and Nani's authority.

When Finn read the note, he realized he could barely make sense of it. Written in what looked like large, flowery, ornate chicken-scratch was the following:

_People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone. There's a baddie in Val Royeaux, and I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the café, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords, or whatever you fight with._

Just beneath the words was a crude drawing of the three locations spoke of, accompanied by a sketch of three arrows flying towards a man's bare arse. Finn snorted.

"I think it's intended for you, Nani," he said. "You're the one with the mark, after all. I'm just your unnamed accomplice."

"This again?" Blackwall said, probably referring to Finn's insistence on calling himself Ser Unnamed Accomplice. Finn liked to take simple pleasures where he could.

"That's an interesting coincidence," Nanyehi said, holding up the other note, "because here's another message also intended for me. It's an invitation to a party at the Ghislain Estate. Tonight. From a Madame de Fer. She wants to meet me." She strode up to Finn and read the note over his shoulder. "Hmm. Someone wants to help me? What's this about searching for red things? At least the _invitation_ is straightforward."

"Madame de Fer," Cassandra said, resting one hand on her hip. "It's a nickname for the enchantress of the Imperial Court, I believe. You will not want to ignore this invitation, if I may offer my advice. I wonder if we can win over her support."

Nanyehi tapped her chin. "And she invited me personally. I'd prefer not to snub the invitation."

"This might be something, too." Finn waved his note in the air. "This person says they want to help. I'd rather not ignore it."

Nani looked at him like he'd just stripped off all his clothes, coated himself in salad dressing, and streaked through Val Royeaux's Chantry. _Well. _Apparently he was crazy for wanting to follow up on a message someone shot at them with an arrow. Now that he actually thought it, it _did _sound a little wacky, truth be told.

"I can't do both at once, Finn," she said. "Besides, it's just someone _saying _that some guy wants to hurt me. Doesn't half of Orlais at this point?"

"Tell you what." Finn crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on one hip. "Madame de Fer didn't invite _both _of us. Just you. And there's no harm in at least having a go at finding these red things. I'll stay behind in Val Royeaux while you go to the party. I think it's important we at least _try."_

"Finn, I – " she protested. "Are you certain? I don't want to leave you behind. Besides, that note mentioned _fighting._"

"_Please,_" he scoffed. "I can handle a scuffle. Just meet me back here in the summer bazaar tomorrow. I'll live. It's a safe city." He looked around the group. "Anyone else with me?"

Cassandra all-too-readily voiced her approval of seeking Madame de Fer's support, since they'd been invited to the party and had the golden opportunity to introduce themselves, and bowed out of Finn's quest to find whatever-the-hell red things were hidden about the city. Fine. Blackwall gruffly agreed with Cassandra and Nanyehi, nonverbally implying he'd go to the Ghislain Estate as well. Solas at least had the decency to give Finn an apologetic look before he jumped on the _let's-attend-the-party _train. Just when Finn thought he'd be wandering about Val Royeaux by himself scanning the ground for anything red like a total idiot, Varric gave an amused chuckle and thumped him on the back.

"I'll help Frosty look," he said. "You kids have fun."

"Suit yourself," Nanyehi said. She gave Finn a pat on the arm. "Be safe."

He watched them walk away, watched the bright sunlight play off Nanyehi's hair in hues of cinnamon and burgundy and merlot. It made him a tad uneasy, splitting up their group like this, but since both he and Nani were full-fledged Inquisition agents now, they could both technically manage their own affairs. Never mind that his sister had that Beyond-touched mark on her hand, and everyone kept asking after her. Finn could be just as important, too…right?

Nah.

He'd just have to think of a way to explain to whoever wrote the note, when he met them, that he was _not _the special one.

* * *

><p>It took Finn and Varric the better part of an hour finding the "red things," which turned out to be tattered crimson scarves with attached clues dropped in semi-hidden locations in the spots mentioned in the note. He'd found the one at the docks tied to someone's boat, and thus had a very awkward encounter explaining to some irate Orlesian why he was climbing all over his precious vessel. (<em>Diiiirty<em>.) Then he'd ran all around the bazaar searching for a damned set of stairs, finally finding the second scarf shoved in a planter on the balcony near one of the shops. But the third scarf took the cake; it was hidden beneath a table at the outdoor café, at which three men and two women were enjoying a nice lunch in the warm sun. Finn had been forced to quickly dive under the table to retrieve the scarf, which had resulted in one woman screaming, the second woman pegging him with a turnip, and all three of the men getting out of their seats to presumably punt his arse into next week. By the time they'd escaped _that _encounter, Finn and Varric were both panting heavily and in need of a stiff drink.

Varric knew a nicer café on the other side of the bazaar – because of _course _he did – and that was where they both sat now, two tankards of ale in front of them and a platter of smoked sausages on the way.

This café was an indoor one, decorated to Orlesian extremes: royal blue and gold drapery around the banisters, rich mahogany chairs with high, carved backs, golden lion statues at the doorway. Finn scratched one of the golden diamonds on the tablecloth with his nail, taking another long pull of ale.

"So," Finn said, setting the tankard down, "it looks like those clues we just picked up were pointing to some location. An alleyway not far from here. Think we should check it out?"

"I don't know, Frosty." Varric leaned one elbow on the table. "You really want to get involved in this without everyone here? The first note _did _mention a fight." He thoughtfully patted Bianca where the crossbow was strapped to his back.

"We can take some goons," Finn said with a grin.

Varric laughed. "You're just like Hawke."

A waitress set down the platter of smoked sausages, and Varric studied something on his nails, letting Finn take the first bite.

"You know, Varric," Finn said, then remembered to finish chewing and swallowing, "you haven't told me any stories about Hawke. Apart from getting some letter about her turning on her lover with murder, I think. Got any good ones?"

"Ha! I've got plenty." Varric clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. "You want to hear about the time Hawke set up Kirkwall's Guard-Captain with her now-husband?"

"Go for it."

Varric took a swig of ale, ate a smoked sausage, and sat there for a minute or so, obviously taking the time to prepare the story in his head. Storytellers took preparation seriously; Finn remembered thinking one of his clan's _hahrens _had actually fallen asleep right before the man launched into a two-hour tirade about halla and Ghilan'nain.

"Hawke knew Guard-Captain Aveline from back home in Lothering," Varric said. "And you should know that Aveline is absolutely _terrible _at flirting. Awful. So she had this big crush on one of her guardsmen. Donnic. Asks Hawke to deliver the man a package and doesn't tell Hawke what this package is. Hawke being Hawke, she agrees. I was there, obviously, and who else? Fenris? Yeah, him – _oh, _and Isabela. So we walk our asses literally fifty feet over to the barracks where Donnic's bunk is and hand him the package. He opens it, and he's in _complete _disbelief. It's copper marigolds."

"Copper…what?" Finn said. "Why?"

Varric snickered. "Aveline thought it would give poor clueless Donnic the hint that she was interested in him. Copper for strength, marigolds for – I don't know, some shit. Hawke is just standing there, speechless, totally embarrassed about this guy's reaction. We tell Aveline what he thought of them, and she's disappointed, and _that _was the exact moment we realized what was happening. Isabela and I had a good laugh about it. _So. _Hawke decides to lure Donnic to the Hanged Man so he and Aveline can chat it up with a few beers."

Finn rested his chin on his hand. An Orlesian woman giggled loudly about something as she and a finely-dressed gent walked by their booth. "I can't imagine that ended well."

"You bet your ass it didn't. Aveline got scared at the last minute and ditched the Hanged Man without Donnic even seeing her, which led Donnic to believe that _Hawke _was trying to get him there on a date, and then he actually tells Hawke he isn't interested in women without backbones." Varric's eyes sparkled with nostalgia. "Well that pisses Fenris off to no end, 'cause I'm sure he didn't like Hawke being insulted, and she really _does _have backbone, but that's another matter. At this point we're all at our wit's end with Aveline, until Hawke – the _ridiculously_ generous Hawke – offers to clear out an entire patrol route on the Wounded Coast so Aveline and Donnic can walk a patrol and do nothing but talk."

"I can see why a lot of people wanted to be friends with her," Finn said.

Varric nodded. "She cusses like a sailor and has little to no filters, but damn if she isn't one of the best friends there is. So all four of us walk the patrol route just ahead of Aveline and Donnic and try to sneakily take out the bandits and Tal Vashoth and whatnot. Mind you, the snippets of their conversation that we're hearing are just _awful. I like swords, Donnic. They're strong, swords are. What do you have to say about swords? _Then minutes on end of complete silence. Then _it's a nice evening for an evening _or some shit. At this point, I think we'd all decided we'd had enough of this nonsense. Hawke included. So we find Aveline and Donnic, and Isabela says, I kid you not – " He started laughing to himself.

"Well, _what?" _Finn urged him.

"She says to Donnic, _take a hint and bend her over a basin," _Varric finished.

Finn burst into laughter, thumping his fist against the table and startling a meek-looking woman nearby, who pressed her fingers against her mouth. Varric was still laughing too, his deep-set eyes jovial and relaxed.

"Creators' hairy balls," Finn said, snorting and nearly choking on a piece of sausage. In hindsight, eating while laughing was not a smart idea. "I can't believe – _wow. _I'm speechless."

Varric took a swig of ale. "And they're married to this day. Would you believe _that? _Happy as can be. Aveline gets all red in the face when I tell this story, but things like that can't be kept hidden."

"_Well." _Finn shook his head, chuckling to himself. "You really know how to pick your friends, Varric. Honestly, though, they seem like a good bunch."

"They were." Varric smiled. "Most of them. Hawke brought us all together. Even _Fenris _couldn't keep brooding around her, and this is a man whose brooding is so impressive it could literally impregnate you with an honorary broody baby if you're not careful."

"I think I'd be safe," Finn said.

"You never know." Varric brushed a piece of lint off his coat sleeve. "Maybe someday I'll bring you around to meet them. You seem like the type they'd enjoy. But after…after this Inquisition business is sorted out."

"I'd like that." Finn splayed the note open on the table with one hand. "First order of business – we find out if there's actually someone wanting to hurt my sister. And then we shove some righteous revenge up his arse."

"You got it, Frosty."


	9. A Ballad of Pantsless Men

_Thank you all for your lovely reviews! You guys are the reason I keep posting in a timely fashion! :)_

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><p><strong>A Ballad of Pantsless Men<strong>

Evening had begun to settle in Val Royeaux by the time Finn and Varric deciphered the exact location of the alleyway where they were supposed to find some "baddie" who maybe wanted to hurt Nanyehi. Val Royeaux's summer bazaar became more subdued as darkness came; colors took on a wash of grey hues, people began to talk in quieter tones. Still, it wasn't _empty. _Finn liked that.

Varric hadn't put up a fuss about going to find this guy, so Finn decided he'd rather get this possible threat over with. Nani, Cassandra, Solas, and Blackwall had likely reached the party at the Ghislain Estate by now. Finn could only imagine his _sister, _the Dalish scout who practically tried to shrink into her own leggings and hide whenever she saw a human, meeting and greeting at an Orlesian party. Not to mention Nani hated the taste of finer wines and champagne – _all _alcohol, for that matter – and would probably gag if she saw a platter of _escargot_.

He could really only wish her the best in that regard.

"I think we exit the bazaar here," Finn told Varric, pointing. "That should take us to a street where we can find the alleyway that loops around to where the guy is. You ready?"

"Bianca's _always _ready," Varric said with a grin.

Finn made for the exit, then stopped, turning to look over his shoulder. Someone was watching him from the cover of a shadow under a high archway – a petite woman, her noticeable mage's robes accentuating her figure. They locked eyes for a second, and then she stepped towards him, lowering her hood.

"Finirial Lavellan, yes?" she said. "If I could have a moment of your time?"

He'd seen sketches of this woman, but never met her in person. A fair-skinned elf, her black hair cropped close to her head, her eyes the palest green, like a dewdrop on a leaf. Unless he was mistaken – and he wouldn't put it past himself – this woman was the former Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi.

Could it be?

He'd heard of the worldwide mage rebellion, obviously, led by Fiona herself. Being Dalish didn't mean he shoved his head under a rock and missed every bit of big news around him. And, of course, being a mage _himself, _he could rather sympathize with the plight of those who had been abused in the various circles across Thedas. He couldn't fathom being corralled in a tower like an animal and having no leverage to stop Templars from abusing him. But for Fiona to actually approach him like this? Made him wonder.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona?" he asked, his brows knitting together. "How do you know who I am?"

"Tales of you and your sister have spread quickly," she said, her voice calm and collected. "She is the Herald of Andraste, I take it; I see no mark on your hand. Regardless, it is you I wished to speak to."

"Isn't it – you know – _dangerous _for you to be out in public like this?" Varric asked.

Fiona shook her head once. "I am more than capable of protecting myself. And I came with a peace offering. I know you are a mage, Finirial, just like we are, and an apostate since birth. _You _of all people should be understanding of our cause."

Finn raised one eyebrow. "I'm confused. Weren't you supposed to be at the Conclave? You know, the _peace talks _between _mages _and _Templars? _How are you still alive?"

"I sent a negotiator in my stead, in case it was a trap," she said. "As did the Lord Seeker, you'll note." Her eyes saddened. "I won't pretend I'm not glad to live. But I lost many dear friends that day. And I understand you nearly lost your sister to the blast, Finirial. It disgusts me to think the Templars will get away with it. I'm hoping you won't let them."

"You think the Templars were responsible?" Finn really wouldn't put it _past _them at this point, judging by Lord Seeker Lucius's strange behavior earlier today, and the way the Templars jumped to his every order without a question.

"Everyone blames each other," Varric muttered. "You'd think I was still in Kirkwall."

"I suppose that's true," Finn said. "What did you want to say?"

"I understand you seek help with the Breach." She looked down at Varric once, then turned her attention back to Finn. "And I bring an offering from my people. We will provide you aid for closing the Breach, so long as you support us in return." A lengthy pause. "I've seen what your sister is. What the Inquisition is. And I've seen the Chantry for what it is. The Chantry condemns magic and hunts us mages down like animals, while your Inquisition has known apostates in its ranks. I would sooner pledge my aid to your cause than to others."

In another life, in a time when the explosion hadn't happened and he and Nani were still members of their clan, Finn would've eventually become their Keeper. He fully understood a leader's drive to protect their people, the responsibility of having all of those lives in your hands. Had he been in Fiona's position, he likely would've made the same offer.

"Do you have enough mages to pour a decent amount of magic into Nani's mark?" Finn asked.

"As many as you'll need," she said. "Consider this an invitation, Finirial: come to Redcliffe and meet with the mages. An alliance could _greatly _help us both, after all." She bowed and took a step back. "I hope to see you shortly. _Au revoir, _my Lord Lavellan."

"_Dareth shiral," _Finn said, watching her turn and step nimbly back into the shadows and through the archway, where he couldn't see her any longer, despite the advantages of his elven night vision.

Both he and Varric were silent for a moment.

"Which way are you leaning?" Varric finally asked. "I suppose the decision won't be just yours, though."

Finn shrugged, letting out a quick huff of a laugh. "Let's put it this way, Varric: we've just received a personal, civilized welcome from the leader of the rebel mages. Earlier today, we received a personal, civilized "fuck you" from the leader of the Templars. I think it's already obvious which way I'd lean."

Varric laughed loudly. "I see your point."

* * *

><p>The alleyway was, as expected, deserted. A night breeze chilled Finn's skin and ruffled his hair. He glanced around, scoping out the piles of crates, the boarded up windows, the empty walls. Nothing about this alleyway looked particularly Orlesian, which was probably why it was a deserted alleyway and not a main attraction of Val Royeaux. Nothing save the door, at least – it looked like a simple enough door, blocking Finn and Varric's way into what was probably a back courtyard, but it had surprisingly clean royal blue paint complete with cheery golden trimmings.<p>

"We're about to get ambushed, aren't we?" Varric said, eyes focused on the rooftops. "We're totally about to get ambushed."

Finn snorted. "People don't just jump off roofs and attack, Varric. And even if they _did, _we'd notice them coming. No one appears out of nowhere."

"You clearly haven't been to Kirkwall," Varric said. He looked up at Finn and did a noticeable double-take. "Andraste's ass. That shit startles me every time."

"What shit?" Finn said, approaching the door.

"Your eyeshine," Varric said, following him. "All you elves have that. It's like a cat. Your eyes flash green in the dark."

Ah, right. Finn found it odd that human and dwarven eyes _didn't _do that. Perhaps there was some ancient elven or tevene word for whatever caused the green iridescence, but in any case, Finn enjoyed being able to see well in the dark. A hunting adaptation, most likely.

Finn grasped the door handle in his hand, pausing. He could hear breathing on the other side of the door, and the scuffing of someone's boot. It wasn't noticeable, but ears as big as his didn't miss noises very often. And someone was on the other side of that door. Not close, if he was any judge – likely several paces away – but near enough to be a threat in a matter of seconds.

Unless he decided to have a civilized conversation.

"There's someone behind the door," Finn whispered down to Varric. "I might be able to reason with him."

Varric shrugged. "Your funeral."

Finn wasn't keen on being outdone, so he shrugged more dramatically than Varric, twisted the door knob, and opened it. There was indeed a man several feet behind the door – a man wearing a fancy doublet and one of those peculiar, ridiculously impractical Orlesian masks – and the man almost immediately lifted his hand and shot a fireball directly at Finn's face.

Finn flinched sideways, the fireball burning past his right ear. He heard a hefty metallic clinking as Varric pulled Bianca off his back.

"Herald of Andraste!" the man announced. He stood at attention, his hands on his slim hips. "How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"

Something about this situation was too unexpectedly funny to _not _laugh at; Finn bumped his hip against the door jam and leaned on it, shaking his head with a chuckle.

"One, I literally have no clue who you are," he said, raising his hand and holding up his index finger. "Two," he flipped up the second finger, "I probably only spent a couple hours jogging around Val Royeaux picking up colored scarves, and then I topped it off with a flagon of ale, so if _that's _going to be the final straw that broke the Inquisition's back, then we really had no chance in the first place."

"You don't fool me!" the man said. "I'm too important for this to be an accident! How much did you pay, hmm? Scouting is not cheap!"

"Varric, how much was that ale?" Finn asked, looking over his shoulder.

"A silver," Varric said.

"_A whole silver," _Finn exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "However will the Inquisition afford paying their scouts when they reward them with _actual ale?_ Creators forbid! I cannot comprehend this madness!"

The man frowned. "You mock me, rabbit."

Maybe so, but the Orlesian _had _attempted to turn Finn's face into a finely grilled steak, and Finn had just wasted an afternoon finding this hooligan, so he may as well have some fun with it.

"Me?" Finn said. "You jest!"

He could _almost _hear Varric rolling his eyes in the background.

"And let me also mention," Finn said, flipping up his third finger and wiggling it for dramatic effect, "that the Herald of Andraste is my sister, not me, and didn't even give enough of a shit about you to come herself, so she outsourced the searching job to me." He bowed. "Good evening."

"The joke is on you!" the man said, obviously trying to gain the upper hand. "I will strike again, and your Inquisition will bend over backwards to find me!"

Finn could've made a joke right there about bending over, but he refrained, probably for Varric's sake (although it didn't seem like Varric minded raunchy jokes in the slightest.) He opened his palm and twisted his hand into a fist, freezing the odd Orlesian into a magnificently posed ice sculpture.

"…you like doing that, don't you?" Varric said.

"Maybe a little." Still, it wasn't necessarily _easy, _and even though it had taken Finn a lot of practice to perfect that move, he still couldn't do that without getting a raw, stinging ice burn on his hand. He flexed his fingers, wincing.

Was that really it? It seemed a little anticlimactic that the supposed baddie who wanted to hurt Nanyehi was now reduced to slowly dripping cold water onto the stone paving beneath him until he thawed and someone cleaned up his corpse. Suspicious, Finn glanced around the dark space…

Only to see a woman in crisp blue and silver Orlesian armor fall to the stones with a _thud, _and a petite elven woman emerge from behind her.

The elf certainly didn't look like she belonged with the Orlesian – not with her ostentatious plaidweave leggings and tight, tattered red tunic – so Finn didn't bother grabbing his staff. She looked over at him and wrinkled her nose in disgust, a slight breeze stirring her short, choppy blonde hair.

"Piss," she spat. "You're an elf."

Finn didn't know how he was supposed to respond to that.

"Well, shit, you must really hate mirrors," he eventually replied.

"I'm _people, _you numbnuts." She gripped her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, striding over to the frozen Orlesian mage. Her hips swayed as she walked. When she reached him, she peered up at his face, looking thoroughly grossed out. "_Ugh. _Served him right, eh? Rich tits always think they're too important to die. You showed him."

Finn blinked.

"_Well." _She approached him, crossing her arms over her chest and scratching her left shin with the toe of her right boot. "You followed the notes well enough. Sucks you're an elf, but we'll see if that's a problem. I mean it's all good, innit? The important thing is, you glow? You're the Herald thingie?"

"Ah. That." Finn rubbed the back of his head.

"The Herald is off doing business right now," Varric informed the woman. "We're doing her dirty work. Varric Tethras and Finn Lavellan, at your service." He squinted up at Finn. "Yes, I gave her your real name, not the title you keep telling everyone."

"You're not even the glow-y one?" The woman grabbed Finn's left hand and held it up, turning it back and forth and staring at his palm with quizzical blue eyes. He tolerated it. "Who's the Herald, then? She an elf?"

Finn nodded. "Very much so. She's my sister."

The woman snorted and dropped his hand. "Sucks. More elfy elves with elfy tattoos." She shrugged, slinging her bow behind her back. "I don't know what's going on here, really. I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

"Your people?" Finn asked. "Who?"

"_People _people," she said proudly.

Helpful.

"Name's Sera," she continued. She gestured to a stack of crates near them. "That's cover. Get 'round it. For the reinforcements."

So the random lunatic with the fireballs wasn't the only one here – aside from the shanked woman lying nearby on the ground, of course. Finn didn't mind – after an afternoon of being yelled at and chased by offended noblemen, he was itching for a good fight.

"Don't worry, though." Sera gave Finn a big, cheeky grin. "Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches!"

Varric chuckled.

"Of all the…" Finn's eyes widened. "You didn't, I don't know, take their _swords?"_

"Because no breeches!" Sera said, giggling. She swung a small sack off her shoulder and dropped it on the ground; from the way it landed, it sounded like clothing. "It's funny!"

And here Finn had gone all this time thinking _he _was the token crazy person.

There wasn't even enough time to take cover behind those crates – not with Finn standing there raising his eyebrows and wondering why Sera had gone through the trouble of sneaking into an equipment shed, bagging up several sets of breeches, and fleeing the scene without making an effort to hamper their damage output. Three men charged out from a small side-alley, and Finn's jaw nearly hit the ground.

The men were, indeed, missing breeches. In fact, they were also missing what typically went _under _the breeches.

"Eat it!" Sera yelled, firing at the first one.

These men must've been awfully dedicated to whatever cause they supported; Finn certainly wouldn't have rushed into a fight with his privates swinging in the breeze. He ran out of time to be baffled by it; one of the pantsless men charged him, and he leapt out of the way, scrambling up onto another stack of crates.

He was only able to shoot one ice bullet – and, unfortunately, miss – before the same man swung his blade (the _actual steel_ blade) at Finn's legs and forced him off the crates. Finn ripped his staff from his back and sent a flurry of ice the man's way, cringing in a sort of sympathy as he did so. The man flopped to the ground, bare arse up, his sword clattering to the stones.

"Last one's down!" Varric called. "I think we've had our share of crazy for the day, Frosty."

"No arguments here." Finn returned his staff to his back and rejoined Varric; Sera bounced up to them a moment later, looking triumphant.

"Friends really came through with that tip!" she exclaimed, bursting into laughter. "No breeches!" Her smile faded only slightly when she looked at Finn. "So, brother of the woman who's the Herald of Andraste. You an Inquizzy-thingie-agent? You can make decisions? I'd like to join."

He'd jinxed himself, saying he'd had his share of crazy. No, wait – _Varric _had jinxed him. Always blame the dwarf.

"Hold on, hold on." Finn waved his hands around in front of him. "I've just spent a couple hours charging around Val Royeaux to look for clues in awkward places, then I nearly got my face fried by an extremely pompous mage, then I was forced to fight three men who were stark naked from the waist down. Either this is a dream, or Varric and I have just stumbled into the weirdest shit possible. Care to clear some of this up?"

"Calm down, mister elfbutt. I get what you want." She shrugged. "It's like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. Well, not _me _me. I'm _one_. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall…there were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, "friends," be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate." She grinned; she had a nice grin, Finn noticed, one that lit up her whole face. "So here, in your face, I'm Sera. The Friends of Red Jenny are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows."

True, she _had _at least joined them for the pantsless-man fight and attempted to explain her cause. Plus, as she'd said…arrows.

"You want to sign up as a recruit?" he asked.

"Yeah! That fit into your grand plan?" She shifted on her feet. "I'm not mister Knifey Shivdark, and I'm not gonna do your grunt work and spy and shit, but I've got arrows. That's good, yeah? You need people signing up? New cause and all. And I want to get everything back to normal. Don't you?"

Varric looked at Finn, Finn looked at Varric, and saw the gears turning in the dwarf's head. Varric gave him a _you're-actually-going-to-do-it-aren't-you _look, to which Finn shrugged one shoulder.

They'd just enlisted Blackwall as their own personal recruit. Why not one more? It couldn't _harm _them.

"Fuck it, why not?" Finn said. "We're heading back to Haven in the morning. You can join us."

"Yes!" Sera exclaimed. "You tell your glowing Herald sister to get in good with the little people before she's too big to like. That'll keep her breeches where they should be. Speaking of breeches…" She picked up the sack stuffed full of the men's missing breeches and tossed it at Finn, who reflexively caught it. "Here! You've got merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Sell these!"

"I, uh…" Finn looked down at the sack in his hands, not sure he liked where these things had been. He wouldn't mind scrubbing his hands – and his eyes – clean before they met up with Nanyehi tomorrow morning. "Thanks. Might buy us a beer."

"See? Good stuff." Sera trotted off down the alley. "Let's go!"

Varric looked at Finn again. Finn looked at Varric.

"Cassandra might actually kill you," Varric said with a laugh.

Finn shrugged. "Sounds like a Monday."


	10. Furthering the Split

_You guys put a smile on my face :) Thanks for reading!_

_Meanwhile, back at the ranch...er, Haven..._

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><p><strong>Furthering the Split <strong>

Josephine worked her fingers through Nanyehi's shiny hair, twisting pieces into an elaborate braid and smiling to herself. The elf woman sat in Josephine's chair with her delicate hands folded in her lap, and Josephine stood behind her, idly watching her assistant Minaeve study something at the table by the door.

She was immensely glad that Nanyehi had finally agreed to this when the group had returned to Haven from Val Royeaux. Josephine liked braiding hair; it was as much a bonding ritual as anything else. And if there was anything she detested, it was animosity, distrust, malcontent. She knew the Herald wasn't completely comfortable around humans, but if a little hair braiding could ease the tension, Josephine was happy to oblige.

Not to mention Nanyehi had _beautiful _hair. It was the deepest auburn, the color of the richest red wines, picking up little sunbursts of crimson whenever she moved her head and light flared off a strand. It was soft to the touch as well, like little silken threads in Josephine's nimble fingers.

"You are sitting remarkably still, my lady," Josephine praised. "Often when I braid a woman's hair, I have to keep compensating for her movements. This is a refreshing change."

"Years and years of hunting," Nanyehi answered; Josephine detected a smidgeon of pride in the elf's voice. "One crack of a twig under your foot and you'll lose the prey."

"So I see." Josephine combed out a bit of a snag. "Is it odd for you, being here? I imagine this is nothing like your home."

"It's…yeah. I'm still getting used to it." Nanyehi sighed softly.

Poor thing. Josephine hummed as she braided, hoping her touch would settle Nanyehi a bit; the elf was like a rigid little bird in the chair, completely motionless and tense as a wire.

"What is your home like, dare I ask?" Josephine said, to break the silence.

"It was hard to call anything _home, _really," Nanyehi said. "We moved around all the time, when humans got wind of our presence and tried to chase us away, when predators came too close to our camp… But I enjoyed the northern Free Marches. It was warmer there. I, um…" She broke off, chuckling a little. "I used to like sleeping up in the trees. The night wind never got too cold where we were, and I liked to be up high. That must sound awfully strange to you."

"As strange as my upbringing would sound to you, I imagine," Josephine said with a smile.

"You're from Antiva?" Nanyehi asked. "I think that's what Cassandra said. Is it warm there?"

"Oh, very!" Josephine loved talking about her homeland. "It is such a lovely country. There's nothing quite like watching the ocean, feeling the warm sea breeze on your skin… Ferelden is so cold. And…_muddy."_

"You're telling me," Nanyehi said.

"So," Josephine said, "is there anything I can do for you? To make you more comfortable here? Anything to remind you of your clan or the Free Marches? I have many contacts. I can arrange anything you ask."

Nanyehi seemed about to answer, but was cut off.

"Arrange for the ground to split open and form a perfectly natural hot spring so I can wash off the twenty pounds of mud I've gotten grafted into my skin," Finn said, stepping into the room and handing something to Minaeve, who took it with a big grin and began turning it around and around in her hands. "That would be _fantastic."_

"You interrupted me, Finn," Nanyehi said, but her tone was hardly angry; in fact, her tense muscles visibly relaxed when Finn entered the room.

"You know you want a hot spring," Finn said, grinning and leaning against the wall.

Josephine watched him, her cheeks coloring.

There was something inexplicably magnetizing about Finn. Not just that he was handsome (she had to admit he had a very nice bone structure.) Josephine liked to watch his expressive, ice-blue eyes light up when he talked about something – and he _really _liked to chat. He'd come by a few times to say hello when he was here in Haven, which she gathered he did with everyone he knew here, but it still made her day a little better to talk to someone. She liked to watch the wiry muscles on his arms flex as he moved, liked his golden tan and wind-ruffled snowy hair, liked to watch a muscle jump in his jaw when he turned his profile to her and clenched his teeth.

He was well-built for an elf, she thought – proportional to his short stature, all lean and wiry muscle like a rogue.

"Anyway," Finn said, startling Josephine out of her reverie, "it seems Madame Vivienne has settled in just fine to her quarters here, despite what one might think. She wanted to pass on a thank you for the new pillows, Josephine. In other news, Sera has been at the tavern since she got here and I just found her asleep on one of the benches." He did a mock salute. "That's my report for the day."

"Much appreciated, my lord," Josephine said.

"_Please," _he said with a lazy smile, "call me Finn. I'd prefer not to be on such impersonal terms."

_That _may have been a big reason why she liked to watch him so – that easy, relaxed smile he gave so freely. Finn wasn't necessarily a wordsmith or a silver-tongued sweet talker, but he was friendly, _real._

She gave a nod. "I will. My thanks."

Her thoughts returned to what he'd spoken of. They'd returned from Val Royeaux yesterday accompanied by Madame Vivienne, who'd pledged her support for the Inquisition as a way of ensuring their success in restoring order to Thedas. Vivienne was a _powerful _ally; Josephine was overjoyed to have her with them. They'd also returned with Sera in tow, and Josephine couldn't quite figure out that one. She knew why Finn had recruited her – the girl seemed quite sharp with a bow – but as for Sera herself, she remained a loud-spoken, rather opinionated mystery.

Josephine felt it was her job to smooth over the rough edges here in Haven, to make sure all relations went positively, but that wasn't the easiest task with Sera. She had no idea how to appease the girl. Solas had been happy enough when she'd procured him new paints, Blackwall when she'd arranged for new metals to arrive at Haven so the smith could make him a better sword, and Varric when she'd delivered him a letter from Kirkwall's Guard Captain (and apparently Vivienne appreciated the new Orlesian pillows Josephine had shipped in prior to her arrival) but Sera refused to be pleased.

If anyone could make friends with her, Josephine thought, it was Finn.

"What's our next objective?" Nanyehi asked from the chair. "We might want to make a move on the mages or the Templars fairly soon."

"I've some thoughts on the matter," Josephine said, finishing up the last touches of Nanyehi's braid. She stood back to admire her handiwork. "I'd be happy to discuss them when we meet in the war room."

* * *

><p>They gathered in the war room shortly after. Nanyehi gingerly touched her fingers to her newly braided hair, rather impressed with what Josephine had done with it – from what she could feel, anyhow. She generally didn't care much about her hair, and it usually ended up a tangled mess from the way it whipped around as she jumped about firing her bow. This, though…felt nice.<p>

It felt especially nice when Cullen walked in last, glanced at Nanyehi, and said "you look lovely today," with that same warm half-smile on his face.

"You like her hair?" Josephine chirped excitedly. "I'm out of practice, but I think I did a rather good job, wouldn't you agree?"

Cullen coughed into his fist and managed a bit of a nod.

"We should discuss recent events," Cassandra said, reaching for Val Royeaux's marker on the map and tapping it with her index finger. "I still think it would be good to investigate what's wrong with Lord Seeker Lucius, but I will defer to Nanyehi's opinion on the matter."

Nani already had an opinion, but she wasn't sure any of them would relish hearing it.

"We've tracked the Templars to a place called Therinfall Redoubt," Leliana informed them. "We can investigate further, if we so choose. There is, however, the matter of the mages' invitation to Redcliffe. Finirial informed me that Grand Enchanter Fiona herself approached him with a very civil proposal. And if she is sincere, the mages may be able to pour enough magic into the Herald's mark for her to shut the Breach when we make our final move on it."

Realistically, all pride aside, Nani knew she'd need their power. Her mark hurt enough when she used it on average rifts; using it to shut _the _rift might very well cause enough pain to rip her apart.

"I still think we should investigate the Templars," Cullen argued. "I was a Templar. I know what they're capable of. And they could suppress the Breach, make it easier for Nanyehi to close it."

"Both may be risky options," Cassandra said. "What are you thinking, Nanyehi?"

Nani steeled herself.

"I've tried to weigh them both," she said truthfully. "And I can't see why we wouldn't approach the mages. They _want _our alliance. They have good reason to want it. It would benefit both of us. And my mark needs all the power it can get. I know my word isn't exactly law, but my vote is for the mages."

She purposely didn't mention her own experiences – how, as a Dalish woman, she'd grown up around magic and around _mages, _and that she trusted mages implicitly despite the havoc they could wreak if they weren't careful. That her own brother was a mage, and she'd trust him with her life.

"I agree," Josephine said with an encouraging smile.

Cassandra frowned, but said, "if that's what you feel is best, then I think it's the path we should take."

"We'll send an agent to discuss alliance terms with the mages shortly," Leliana said. "We've also received an offer from a mercenary company called the Bull's Chargers. They have a good reputation as fierce warriors, and I believe striking a bargain with them will also be in our best interests."

Nanyehi nodded. "So, who is doing which task?"

There was silent deliberation for a moment.

"Mages will respond best to fellow mages," Leliana said. "I know this from personal experience. For that reason, I'm going to send Finirial and a team of his choosing to Redcliffe. Nanyehi, if you're amenable, the Bull's Chargers asked for you by name and I'd like to send you to meet with them. They're out on the Storm Coast, not far past Redcliffe."

"Not to mention that Lady Lavellan is our secret weapon of sorts," Josephine added, smoothing down a flyaway paper on her clipboard. "If we can keep her out of the Mage/Templar fighting, then we can protect her more effectively."

Wait…she wouldn't be accompanying Finn? She wouldn't even be part of such an important talk?

The latter didn't bother her as much as the former. Being separated in Val Royeaux for one evening while she attended a soiree was one thing – leaving him behind in Redcliffe for several days while she ventured to the Storm Coast was another matter entirely.

_Grow up, _she told herself angrily. _Finn can't hold you together forever._

"This could be a dangerous path we're taking," Cullen warned them, his expression sober. "We may lose trust if we bring in the mages as allies. I think we'll most certainly alienate the Templars – at _best. _At worst, we've gained a formidable enemy. Is this really what we want to do?"

"We had to make a choice," Nanyehi said, silently challenging Cullen with her eyes. "If we waffle on the decision forever, we run the risk of losing _both _potential allies."

Cullen sighed. "You're right. If there's to be fighting ahead of us, all I can do is make sure our troops are ready for it."

She didn't feel triumphant for that little verbal victory. In fact, she rather felt like a jerk. No doubt Cullen was coming at this problem with a heavy personal bias, just as she was. She scuffed her foot against the floor and watched it.

"That's all we needed to discuss, I think," Cassandra said. "My presence might make the mages nervous, so I'll accompany you to the Storm Coast, Nanyehi. As for the others, you and Finn can ask around and let them decide." She brushed a small piece of dirt off the war table.

"I'll check on the soldiers' progress," Cullen announced. He moved around the war table and made for the door, but stopped just before he reached it, looking over his shoulder at Nanyehi. "Care to join me?"

"Of course," Nani said a little too quickly, jumping to his side and matching his pace.

She enjoyed this, their brief talks in Haven. Cullen had an easygoing way about him when he spoke with her, and he'd recently told her a little more about him – his time in Kirkwall, his family, especially his sister. Not _once _had he commented on her being an elf, something she found refreshing. It didn't seem a big deal to him.

"I caught one of the recruits trying to train with a broom the other day," Cullen said with a chuckle as they reached the training grounds. "Apparently he thought we'd run out of swords."

Nani smiled a touch. "That begs the question: which end of the broom was he holding?"

"The wrong one," Cullen said.

The cold wind stung her nose, and Nani briefly cupped her hands and blew warm air into them. She spotted Blackwall standing in the training area and watching the men practice. Blackwall strode over when he noticed them, coming to a stop beside Nanyehi; both men were a _lot_ larger than her, making her feel briefly like the tiny elf filling in a man sandwich.

Finn probably would say that sounded skanky. And it really, really did.

"What's our plan?" Blackwall asked.

"Sister Leliana is sending Finn to meet the mages in Redcliffe and hopefully secure an alliance," Nani informed him. "I'll be heading to the Storm Coast to meet with a mercenary company called the Bull's Chargers. With any luck, we'll have two allies when we return home."

Home. She'd slipped and called Haven _home. _Since when had she been so much more comfortable here?

"Mages," Blackwall grunted. "_That's _bound to go poorly." He raked his fingers through his thick beard. "If you don't mind, my lady, I'll accompany you to the Storm Coast. Been itching to see the ocean, and it might be nice to meet this mercenary company."

"I'd like that," Nani said.

"Good idea," Cullen said. He turned to look at Blackwall, his eyes narrowing a touch. "The Storm Coast isn't known for being the most peaceful location. _No matter what, _you keep Nanyehi safe. Is that clear?"

"Loud and clear, commander," Blackwall said readily.

Nani, despite all efforts to prevent it, found herself blushing.

* * *

><p>Finn received the news that afternoon from Leliana, and right away he set about finding people who would accompany him to Redcliffe. Vivienne was obviously a no-go, even though he hadn't asked her; she wouldn't support <em>rebel<em> mages. He knew Varric would come with him, no questions asked, and Solas was always happy to talk with him, so that made three total. A fourth person would be better, he reasoned – and with that in mind, he headed into Haven's tavern.

The tavern air smelled strongly of ale and sweat, making Finn pinch his nose shut for a moment. But the minstrel's sweet singing voice was enough to make him forget the odors, and the rich light bouncing off the warm wooden walls made him feel right at home here. He spotted Sera lounging in a booth, her feet kicked up on the table.

"Finnie!" she greeted when she saw him. "There's you, yeah? So, Haven… I expected it to be…bigger."

"Bigger?" Finn said. "Haven can't help its size. Should we build a really tall watchtower for compensation purposes?"

She giggled. "I like you. You get my jokes." With that, she patted the table, probably urging him to sit.

He did sit; not on the table, but on the bench across from her.

"The mages and Templars need to be sat down," she said. "That's all everyone talks about. It's true. This war is stupid, innit? Big frigging hole in the sky spitting out demons, and they're focused on each other? _Stupid."_

"With any luck, we're about to make some headway on that," Finn said, resting his elbows on the table's knotty surface. "Tomorrow they're sending me to Redcliffe to draw up an arrangement with the mages."

"The mages," she repeated. "Crazy arseholes, the lot of them."

Finn raised an eyebrow and gestured at himself.

Sera shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe you're the only different one. Maybe you're about to turn into a crazy arsehole. You're not so bad as you are. You stay that way, yeah?" She sat up a little straighter and pointed violently at him. "Arrows! That's what you need. What if the crazies decide to turn on you? I'm coming with you. Just in case."

Well then. That had been easier than he'd imagined.

"That would be a big help," Finn said, smiling.

"_Yeah _it would." With a big, cheeky grin, Sera rested one arm on the table and leaned on it. "If only the hole in the sky could be solved with arrows. I've even tried shooting at it. They don't come back down. Weird, innit? Freaky shite."

_Freaky shite _was certainly an accurate description for the state of the world as of late.

_Let's just hope Nani's mark works on the big one_, Finn thought.


	11. Of Paradoxes and Pompous Mages

_I find flustered Finn hilarious. So there you go._

_Enjoy! Thank you all for your kind words :) _

* * *

><p><strong>Of Paradoxes and Pompous Mages<strong>

Finn would _never _make the mistake of asking Solas and Sera to journey together _again_.

It started with Solas attempting to speak to Sera in elven – which Finn understood perfectly, and he was rather proud of that fact – which resulted in Sera making a rather vulgar noise with her mouth and turning her nose up in disgust. All right; Finn wasn't too high and mighty to laugh at such a noise. It had, however, sparked a series of debates in which Solas accused Sera of being an example of all things gone wrong with the elves, and Sera fired back that Solas was entirely too "elfy" and should probably watch out before she turned his shiny bald head into a pincushion for her arrows.

By the time they neared Redcliffe Village, it had been days of this, and Finn was tempted to dig a hole in the dirt, bury his head in it, and murder himself. Violently.

He suspected Varric felt similarly; the dwarf had occasionally tried to settle the ongoing spats, but had eventually bowed out and talked to Finn instead.

Finn shifted his pack on his shoulder, sore and in an acidic mood. At least the weather in the Hinterlands didn't match the tenor of their conversations – the sun was warm and pleasing on his back, the clouds like little white feathering in the blue expanse of sky.

"_Ar dirthan'as ir elgara, ma'sula e'var vhenan," _Solas said, shattering Finn's peaceful silence.

Finn thought for a moment, translating in his head. _I speak of the place of our souls, the song in our hearts. _Or was it spirit instead of soul? Finn was getting rusty; either way, he was fairly certain Solas was referring to Elvhenan, or at the very least the collective history binding the elves together, which wouldn't go over well with Sera even _if _she understood.

"_Pbbbbbth," _was Sera's eloquent reply.

"Excuse me?" Solas said.

"It's not going to work, _lethallin," _Finn said, turning to Solas with a half-sympathetic, half-exasperated expression.

"Excuse _yourself," _Sera spat. "Whatever you said and what I did, same difference to me."

Now Finn _really _wanted to find a nice, dark, secluded cave and bury himself in it.

Solas sighed. "I'd hoped, well, our people can sometimes feel the rhythm of the language despite lacking in vocabulary."

"Uh huh?" Sera's voice dripped with feral irritation. "Know what else is good? Words that mean things. Like these words."

"_Fenedhis lasa," _Solas hissed.

Finn couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter.

"I take it you understood that?" Varric asked, stepping around a large, inconvenient rock in his path.

"Oh, quite," Finn said, chuckling. He hadn't known Solas to be capable of such a vicious insult, but he rather liked that about his fellow mage. And at this point he was so fed up with the arguing that he decided to jump in and swing the balance to one side. "Sera, let's keep it civil, shall we? _Ar'din nuvenin na'din, ma'falon."_

He knew it didn't matter much what he'd said; the fact that he'd spoken elven as well would be enough to make his intentions clear.

"You _too?" _Sera exclaimed, tugging on a strand of her cropped blonde hair. "Why don't you two elfy elves talk to _each other, _then?" She crossed her arms tight over her chest as she walked. "I'm not talking to you anymore."

"_Ma nuvenin," _Finn said.

"_Ma serannas, lethallin," _Solas said, breathing out a short laugh through his nose.

"_Tel'abelas," _Finn answered with a shrug and a half-smile.

"There's Redcliffe up ahead," Varric noted, pointing. "And somehow, I think the mages would appreciate if we didn't all shout at them in elven. Just a suggestion."

"Duly noted," Finn said.

He shielded his eyes from the sun's rays and studied the pathway ahead of them. It had turned to loose cobbles rather than churned dirt this close to Redcliffe, the long grasses beside the roads waving gently in the breeze. Someone had spilled a cart next to the road, and the cart and its contents lay there, broken and forgotten. Redcliffe's walls were formidably high in places – though it seemed they'd be able to be scaled in others, seeing as parts had crumbled away – and the gates, he noticed, were down.

Locked. Redcliffe, knowingly or not, had shut them out.

A second later Finn's eyes focused, and he saw the reason Redcliffe had forbidden them entry: a jagged rift in the air just before the gate, already spitting out a crackling stream of neon light and forming what looked to be yet another demon.

Delightful.

They'd already had to sneak around most of the other rifts in the Hinterlands like complete pansies, since Nanyehi had already ventured to the Storm Coast and no one here had the capability to close one. If they focused on one rift, they'd likely be fighting demons there until their deaths.

"We aren't very lucky, are we?" Finn said.

"Huh." Varric squinted. "And I doubt they'll open up the gates until that rift is closed, seeing as they probably closed the gate to keep the demons out. We're pretty well screwed."

"Not necessarily." Finn eyed the crumbling section of wall to the left of the gate. "I think I can get in and out. Solas, if you give me a boost, I can probably climb that wall and get over."

"I can do that," Solas offered.

"Part eleven of _The Insane Life of Finirial Lavellan," _Varric rambled as they edged closer. "Finn sneaks past some big-ass demons, climbs up a big-ass wall, and promptly falls to his doom and breaks his neck."

"The dwarf narrator is a pessimist," Finn said.

"The heroes always die, Frosty," Varric replied. "And not always in spectacular ways."

Finn shrugged, making his ways towards the gap in the wall. He made sure his path swung far left around the rift, so none of the demons would catch wind of their arrival and head their way. Luckily, two rogues and two mages could sneak fairly effectively, especially since Sera had stubbornly decided not to talk for quite a while.

He didn't notice a wide, warped circle of greenish light on the ground at the base of the wall until he accidentally stepped in it; all of a sudden his legs felt like molasses, and his movements slowed to a near halt, no matter how much he pushed his muscles to move. In slow motion he forced himself out of the circle, the momentum shocking his body as he returned to normal speed; he fell, careening into a sage bush.

"Was that some sort of practice for an interpretive dance?" Varric asked, snorting. "Because let me tell you, that was terrible."

"No…no dancing." Finn frowned, standing up and brushing little bits of sage off his tunic. It smelled nice, at the very least; maybe the mages in Redcliffe would appreciate his opportunistic sage cologne. "That circle…it slowed me down somehow. Magic? It has to be."

Solas nodded. "Magic. Of that, I have no doubt. The Veil is weak here; and not merely weak, but altered in a way I have not seen. Interesting. Either way, I'll help you up onto the wall if you're ready."

Finn positioned himself at the base of the wall, and Solas gave him a boost, lifting him high enough to get a decent foothold in the dark grey stones. He dug his fingers into the cracks, hoisting himself up along the wall until he reached the spot where he could climb over. He slung a leg over the wall, then looked down at his three companions, motioning for them to leave. "I'll handle this," he called down. "Meet me back at camp."

"You sure?" Varric asked.

Finn nodded, then swung his other leg over and dropped nimbly to the ground.

On the inside, Redcliffe Village looked like a thriving, active town. Here at the edge of it he saw a group of soldiers clustered around a revered mother, their knees to the ground and their heads bent in reverence; far ahead of him, he could see villagers walking around in the market, talking in groups, trading at wooden stalls. No one appeared to be terribly bothered by the rift just outside the gates.

"Agent Lavellan!" a scout greeted, panting heavily and running up to Finn. "We arrived here earlier when Sister Nightingale sent a missive by bird. We've attempted to spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here was expecting us."

_No one _expected the Inquisition? Not even Fiona, who'd personally invited Finn here? Something was up. Something fishy. And Finn didn't like fishy.

"I find that hard to believe," Finn said, scratching his scalp. "Maybe Grand Enchanter Fiona didn't tell anyone what she'd offered me?"

The scout nodded once. "That may be the case." He glanced over at the gate, which was still very much shut. "How did you get in? They closed that gate yesterday morning."

"These," Finn said, raising his arm and patting his bicep.

The scout looked confused.

"Agent of the Inquisition!" This time an elven mage hurried up to Finn, his brown hair smoothed back on his head and his eyes unreadable. "My apologies! Magister Alexius asked that I take you to the tavern for negotiations. He said he'll join you shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

Magister? _Magister?_

…fuck a bucket.

What was a Tevinter magister doing here in Redcliffe? Had Fiona already abandoned her desire to ally with the Inquisition? Finn abruptly felt launched out of his element here. A Tevinter magister would not likely be respectful of an elven agent, let alone let him open negotiations with the mages.

But Finn had to _try, _didn't he?

"Show me to the tavern, if you will," he told the mage.

The mage nodded, hurrying along the path through the village and down a steep hill; Finn quickened his pace to keep up. He ignored the villagers giving him queer glances as he walked, ignored the various whisperings around him. No doubt they were suspicious of the knife-eared apostate tromping his merry way through their safe haven. His mind swam with confusion and doubt, trying to figure out how Tevinter had grabbed ahold of Redcliffe in the span of only a few days.

He jogged up the steps leading up to the tavern after the mage. A sign proudly declaring the tavern's name, _The Gull and Lantern, _swung in the breeze; Finn looked up at it for a moment, then followed the mage inside.

The tavern was drearily empty inside, at least concerning the entryway. A sad, lonely lantern flickered on one of the stone walls. Many of the chairs and tables had been shoved to the sides without a care for their wellbeing, stacked to the point of tipping over. There were a few mages standing near the back of the room, talking amongst themselves; Finn noticed a familiar face there, an elven woman with short black hair and a distressed look on her face.

Fiona.

"Welcome, agent of the Inquisition," she greeted cordially, and for a moment, Finn thought she'd remembered him. "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

"…you?" Finn said.

"I don't understand," Fiona said, furrowing her eyebrows.

At this point, Finn didn't either. He hadn't the slightest inclination of why Fiona didn't remember him.

"Val Royeaux?" he said. "You came up to me and told me to come here? Really, I don't just wake up on random mornings and think _hey, demon-infested Redcliffe seems like a dandy place to visit."_

Fiona barely moved, barely made an expression. "You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."

"Odd," Finn said, "since someone who looked and spoke exactly like you came up to me in Val Royeaux and personally asked me to come here. You want witnesses? I have witnesses. And now I'm wondering if _you_ have amnesia."

"Exactly like me?" she repeated. "Perhaps there is magic at work, but who would mimic me?" Her shoulders slumped, her face fell; she looked abruptly dejected. "Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

Yes, Finn had gathered that from the elven mage's introduction. But it begged two questions: how, and why?

"Funny, how you tossed the word 'free' in there like it belongs," he said with a deadpan expression.

"We are indentured, not slaves," she said defensively. "I did this for our safety. And I'm afraid I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you. This bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we had no choice. All hope of peace died with Justinia, and I needed to save as many of my people as I could."

"_The Inquisition _could have saved them," Finn reminded her, trying in vain to salvage his chances of an alliance. "And it's only been a week or so since Val Royeaux. How could the situation have gotten so dire in such a short time? I don't – "

The tavern door opened with a thunderous bang, interrupting him. He turned around.

By the armored robes this man was wearing, with the scarlet three-pronged hood and the serpent motifs, he had to be the magister. The slight weathering of his face told Finn he was at least middle-aged, but he moved with the flawless poise of a nobleman who knew how to use his magic. He had another man beside him, a younger, decently handsome man closer to Finn's age with dark eyes and close-cropped dark hair.

Finn would have to be careful. _Extremely _careful. No wisecracks, no ill-timed jokes. An elf such as himself did not simply have a congenial sit-down with a powerful man who very likely owned slaves.

"Welcome, my friend!" the magister said, holding his hands up in a friendly gesture. "I apologize for not greeting you earlier. I am Magister Gereon Alexius. And you are?"

Or maybe he did.

A rather amiable greeting, from a magister to an elf. Finn felt a little disarmed. "Finirial Lavellan," he answered, bowing slightly at the waist. He had to be polite, or he'd likely end up as a smoking pile of ash on the floor. Or worse, bound in chains and shipped off to Tevinter to scrub floors and fuel blood magic for the rest of his life. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." Magister Alexius moved to stand beside Fiona. "The Southern mages are under my control. "And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."

Finn couldn't exactly _lie _to the man; he had no scar on his hand, after all, no means to assume the Herald's identity. "My sister is the survivor, Magister Alexius," he answered. "I am an agent of the Inquisition."

"…so I see." Alexius looked disappointed by that. "Is there something you wished to know, Agent Lavellan?"

A lot of things, really. Finn wanted to know why Fiona had indentured her mages, what that entailed, why none of Redcliffe's forces – namely the arl – took issue with a magister settling in. He also wanted to know how the Tevinters had hauled arse to Redcliffe fast enough to beat Finn there. But he wouldn't ask; he didn't want to be turned into a piece of leather for the man's armor, at any rate. He'd come here alone, and if he botched the situation, he wouldn't be coming _out._

He noticed the younger man watching him intently; sweat threatened to bead up on Finn's brow, and he forced his attention back to Magister Alexius.

"My biggest concern is allying with mages so my sister can close the Breach," Finn said eventually.

"Right to business!" Alexius said. "I understand, of course." He turned to the younger man. "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?"

The man stepped up closer to Finn, his eyes still on him; Finn felt like he wanted to wither into obscurity and crawl into a crack in the floor. But if there was anything he knew from his Dalish upbringing, from his erstwhile life in the wilds, it was to _never _show a predator a single drop of fear, lest you lose any sort of advantage. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin instead.

"Pardon my manners," Alexius said to Finn. "This is my son, Felix."

Felix bowed, then broke his gaze away from Finn and left.

Alexius returned his attention to Finn. "I am not surprised you're here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed to aid your sister. Ambitious, indeed. A pity she is not here to discuss this with me."

Finn wasn't keen on spending any more time here than was absolutely necessary, so he jumped immediately to the crux of the issue. "She would be here if she could, I assure you. But the question remains – would you be able to pledge any mages to the cause?"

"There will have to be – " Alexius began.

He didn't finish; Felix, who'd returned quickly, looked abruptly under the weather, and Alexius had already jumped up to aid his ill son with a piteous expression on his face. Felix stumbled and fell into Finn, who caught him, mercifully, using all of his strength to hold the larger man upright.

It didn't seem to catch Alexius's attention when Felix reached a hand into Finn's pocket.

Either that was an elaborate way to successfully grope Finn in front of Alexius, or…no, Finn was too dumbfounded to think of another reason. Not that he…er…_minded, _per se.

"My lord, I'm so sorry," Felix said, steadying himself and rubbing his forehead. "Please forgive me."

"It's no problem," Finn said. If getting his thigh groped by Felix was his only payoff from coming here to Redcliffe, he'd secretly consider it a minor victory. Sad, that he hadn't been touched by another man for so long, and all it took was a hand in his pocket to make him think rather wanton thoughts.

He'd take this secret to the grave, and with any luck, far past it.

"Felix," Alexius said, approaching his son with a growing aura of concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, father," Felix insisted.

Alexius gave Finn a woebegone look. "Please excuse me, my friend. We will have to continue this at a later date. I shall send word to the Inquisition when I am able. Come, Felix." He held his son's elbow, helping him walk, although Felix looked recovered by this point. "Fiona. I require your aid back at the castle."

Fiona frowned and followed him, and that was the last Finn saw of the Tevinters.

He rubbed the back of his neck, waited a moment, and left the tavern. The bright sunlight nearly blinded him; he squinted, then felt something pricking him from inside his pocket. Confused, he reached a hand inside, coming into contact with a folded piece of paper that hadn't been there before.

…oh. So that was why Felix had done that.

Still a success, in Finn's rather desperate book.

He stepped to the side, sitting on the low rock wall ringing the tavern. Then he unfolded the paper and read the words written in a hasty hand:

_Wait by the docks. It should be safe there. You're in danger, and your sister is more so. _

It must have been written by Felix, or he wouldn't have slipped it into Finn's pocket. Shrugging to no one in particular, Finn stood, slipped the note back into his breeches pocket, and headed down towards the docks.

The quiet _slip, slop _of water against the boats comforted Finn a little, and he listened to a merchant peddling his wares nearby as he crept onto a boat and sat on its bench. The water beneath him rocked him back and forth in a vaguely circular motion, and he took the time to puzzle over the note. Obviously he and Nanyehi were in danger – they had been since the Conclave – but what did Felix know?

All in all, it was probably twenty minutes later when Felix strode down to the boats and stopped at the one Finn waited on.

"Good. You waited," Felix said.

"What's going on?" Finn asked.

Felix's eyes darted around, searching, and he looked edgy. "He's not here," he said. "He must've stayed in the Chantry. Come with me."

"He"? Wonderful. Another Tevinter, likely.

To hell with it – Finn climbed out of the boat and followed Felix as the taller man wove through the crowd of villagers, making his way to the sizable stone Chantry and pushing the door open with a creak. Finn stepped inside, his eyes adjusting hastily to the darkness.

Oddly enough, there was a rift in the middle of the Chantry, suspended over the hardwood floors, and Finn had stepped inside to catch the tail end of a fight, apparently. A mage whacked his staff into a demon, dissolving it, and immediately turned to Finn.

Hot _damn._

The mage glanced down at Finn with a charming grin, his grey eyes disarmingly friendly. He had smooth, dark skin, glossy black hair styled into an uppercut, a moustache that curved slightly upwards at the corners, and probably the most _obnoxiously _good-looking face Finn had seen in quite a long time. If Finn wasn't careful, he'd probably end up slack-jawed and dripping drool on the floor. He clenched his teeth together instead and resigned himself to staring like a complete idiot.

"Good! You're finally here!" The mage wiped sweat off his brow. "Help me close this, would you?"

"There's a bit of a hitch, Dorian," Felix said. "We got the wrong Lavellan. He doesn't have the mark on his hand."

The wrong Lavellan. Well now Finn felt like _more _of an idiot.

"So, what, I've been waiting here and fighting all these demons for a bit of afternoon merriment?" Dorian said, raising one eyebrow.

"_Hnnh," _Finn said under his breath.

Both men stared at him, their expressions two varying degrees of quizzical.

Shite. Finn had just singlehandedly raised the idiot bar to uncharted levels. May as well dig himself a quiet little hole and end it all now.

The rift sputtered, made a hissing noise, and shot out another demon. This one was of the rage variety, it looked like; a fat, gelatinous body made almost entirely of oozing lava. It began its short sojourn towards the three of them, a rumbling laughter gurgling up from within it.

"I believe that's our cue to find a more suitable place for a discussion," Dorian said. He lifted his staff sideways, as if to herd Finn and Felix out of the building. "Out. Out you go. In an orderly, single-file fashion, please."

Finn nearly complied, if only because Dorian's frustratingly mesmerizing voice had told him to, but he realized the demon had already found them and would just follow them out. At best, they'd unleash its power on the villagers if it came out the door.

He ducked under Dorian's staff and ripped his own from his back, running for the demon.

"Bit of a rebel, are we?" Dorian called after him.

The demon noticed Finn and, predictably, began to ooze towards him; he twirled his staff above his head and slammed the butt of it into the floor, attempting to encase the demon in ice.

It worked, sort of. The demon's essence was too fiery to go down in one freeze like a lot of other enemies did; Finn hissed under his breath and leapt out of the way of a swing, rolling back onto his feet and firing an ice bolt. The bolt absorbed into the demon, slowing it down just a tad; Finn glanced behind him to judge his next movement and jumped up onto a pew, pointing his staff forward and sending a blast of ice towards the demon with a tremendous _boom_.

The ice flurry took down the rage demon, tossed several pews in the air, and brutalized a hanging tapestry. Finn looked at the ice slick on the floor with an embarrassed frown, hoping no one would notice he'd trashed a portion of the Chantry.

No one except the two Tevinter mages, of course, who were obviously still watching him.

"Well," Dorian said, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "I can't say I didn't enjoy that."

"_Dorian," _Felix scolded.

Finn returned his staff to his back, rejoining the two men. "I'm surprised I didn't get struck by lightning for that," he said, miraculously regaining his voice without spitting out any more imbecilic noises. "_Sacking Redcliffe's holy ground _and all."

Dorian chuckled. "The day is still young." He gestured for the door. "We might as well find a location that won't try to kill us every few minutes. I think I know a suitable place. Come along. And bar the door behind you, Felix."

* * *

><p>Finn followed the two of them to a grassy rise behind the Chantry. Once there, Dorian stopped, turned, and gave Finn a curious look.<p>

"So you can't close the rifts, you say?" he said. "I take it there's another Lavellan who can?"

"My sister," Finn answered, still maintaining his use of proper speech, thank the creators. "Disappointed?"

Dorian laughed. "Hardly."

Finn's tongue stuck fast to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed hard.

"Dorian," Felix said, "he has no idea who you are. Introduce yourself, would you? We haven't got all day."

"Ah! Getting ahead of myself, I see." Dorian bowed. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do? Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, as you can imagine."

"So…you're in on this?" Finn said, gesturing absently to Felix.

"I should apologize once again for falling on you," Felix said. "I didn't know how else to get you my note. I scribbled it as fast as I could when Father sent me to get a scribe."

"Don't worry about it," Finn said with a dismissive hand wave.

"Yes," Dorian answered, "I am, as you say, 'in on this.' Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before you, Alexius distorted time itself."

"That," Finn said, "is quite possibly the weirdest shit I've ever heard."

Dorian laughed. "Yes, I can imagine it is. Did you happen to see anything odd in any of the rifts near here? Time speeding up or slowing down?"

Finn's eyes widened. "That one before the gate! I stepped in a magical ring and could barely move. Is that what you're talking about?"

"Precisely," Dorian said, his eyes narrowing. "Soon there will be more like that one, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is _wildly _unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

Finn took a deep breath.

"I really shouldn't be surprised," he said. "Everything I've laid eyes on has tried to kill me and my sister in elaborate ways this far. But this…are you _sure?_"

"He is," Felix said.

"I know what I'm talking about," Dorian added. "I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work." He put a hand to his chin. "What I don't understand is why he's doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He isn't doing it for them," Felix said, shaking his head. He looked weary. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori.' And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to your sister. He was more upset than you know about you not being the one with the mark."

That begged the question… "Why? Does he have an elf fetish?" Oops. That sounded bad.

"You'd be surprised how many of my countrymen _do_," Dorian said. "But Alexius? Doubtful."

"They're obsessed with _her_," Felix answered. "I don't know why, considering they weren't even sure which one of you siblings was the right one. Perhaps because she survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

"So _she _can close the rifts," Dorian commented. "Maybe there's a connection? Or they see her as a threat?"

"I know one thing," Finn said. "If they want to get to her, they'll have to go through me. I'm not about to let some Venatori cult hurt my sister." Something stopped him, and he thought for a moment. "This. I don't get this. Why are you both helping me? Am I about to be tricked? Mugged? Sold to pay for a steak dinner? Please tell me I'd at _least _pay for more than one. Five would be ideal."

Dorian burst into laughter.

"Look, I love my father," Felix said over Dorian's laughing. "And I love my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, the Inquisition has to stop him."

"It would also be nice," Dorian started, regaining composure, "if he didn't rip a hole in time. There's already a hole in the sky."

"So he's obsessed with Nani," Finn repeated. "And he went through all this trouble, traveled all the way down here, just to see her? Honestly, she should be ashamed she didn't get him anything. What kind of dysfunctional relationship is this? I thought I taught her better."

"Have her send him a fruit basket," Dorian said. "Everyone loves those. As far as more serious matters go… You know she's his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage."

"I should return to my father," Felix said, looking anxious. "He's going to wonder why I've disappeared for so long. Take care, Dorian." He bowed. "And you, Agent Lavellan."

"Try not to get yourself killed," Dorian cautioned him.

"There are worse things than dying," Felix said, a melancholy touch to his voice as he turned and headed down the slope, leaving the remaining two of them alone.

"So," Dorian said, shifting his weight onto one hip, "it occurs to me that I never got your full name."

Finn could be boringly cordial and not ruffle any feathers. Or he could be his usual strange self and probably drive Dorian ten miles away in under two seconds flat. Maybe he'd hit a new record.

"I am Ser Unnamed Accomplice, senior member of the esteemed House of Accomplices," Finn said with a mock salute. "My associates prefer to call me Unnamed, and you may address me as such."

Dorian chuckled. "Oh, I see. And if I'd prefer to be on better terms than 'associate'?"

That made Finn nearly choke on his tongue.

"I, uh… In that case, you can just call me Finn."

"Finn it is," Dorian said. "I hope you're aware that I'm returning with you to wherever your Inquisition is currently holed up in."

"You what?" Finn said.

"Oh, you thought I'd just meet with you, dump a bunch of bizarre knowledge into that head of yours, and then stroll back to Tevinter and pour myself a glass of wine?" Dorian said, one corner of his mouth turning up in an amused smirk. "As lovely as the wine sounds, I came down south to provide my aid, and that's exactly what I intend to do. Your little Inquisition is stationed in the mountains northwest of here, yes? Haven?"

This could be both a blessing and a curse – the curse being that Finn would have trouble concentrating for the remainder of his time in Haven, which could be quite a while, considering current circumstances. He had no illusions of returning to his clan and resuming training to be a Keeper any time soon, which meant he'd be forced to stay at Haven and try not to slip in his own puddle of drool every time he glanced at Dorian.

It was immeasurably difficult now, all things considered. This was not the first time Finn found himself wishing he wasn't a typical, red-blooded young man with fervid hormones and perfectly crisp eyesight.

Dorian, Finn realized, was still waiting for a response.

Sadly enough, the last thing Finn wanted right now was a distraction, especially one that people would consider scandalous. Finn had enough trouble hiding his inclinations from everyone; Dorian's presence would drag those sinful secrets right out into the light of day.

"Haven," Finn repeated, nodding. "Really, though, you don't want to go there. It's…dirty. Gross, really. Our hygiene is the stuff of nightmares. Some of the men there haven't shaved in what looks like two thousand years. I caught one of them picking a chicken bone out of his beard and eating it. Not a suitable place for a man used to Tevinter decadence, don't you think?"

"I think I'll survive," Dorian said, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Is there any reason we're standing here arguing about facial hair rather than returning to Haven?"

Perhaps Finn's elven blood, and his own lack of facial hair, made him unreasonably fascinated by it; but he had to stop thinking of the subject now, or else he'd probably touch Dorian's moustache before he could stop himself and get his arse kicked.

He paused. This wasn't fair, punishing Dorian's desire to do good because of Finn's own inability to shut off his emotions.

"No reason," Finn said. "Fine. Come back with us. We'll have to wait for Alexius's correspondence, regardless."

"Marvelous!" Dorian's bright, triumphant grin made Finn's resolve flop about like a fish out of water. "Shall we get a move on?"

Finn shrugged. "May as well. There's nothing else I can accomplish in Redcliffe at the moment." He made a step towards the gate, then looked back over his shoulder at Dorian. "This is your last chance to change your mind. You're absolutely certain you want to come back to Haven with us? We're a weird bunch."

"Absolutely," Dorian said.

_Keep it together, _Finn urged himself, walking. _For the love of all that is good, Finn, keep it together._


	12. Those Who Sleep

_Bless you, Dorian, for putting up with Finn's shit. Bless you. And t__hank you guys for your continued support - your kind words are my writing fuel!_

_(Shameless...thy name is Carapatzin.)_

* * *

><p><strong>Those Who Sleep (In Embarrassing Positions)<strong>

Finn gazed into the crackling orange flames of the campfire as they flickered and pirouetted, stretching their ethereal fingers towards the night sky.

They'd made their camp near the farms northwest of Redcliffe village, and Varric had already mentioned a headache and retreated to his tent for the night. Sera had followed shortly after – to her own tent obviously, not Varric's – after sharing a flask of whiskey with Finn. She appeared to have forgiven him for his elfy transgressions earlier that day, even if she still turned a sour, puckered-up look to Solas whenever she seemed to remember he was there. Solas, for his part, said he liked taking a walk at night and would return soon, and he'd vanished into the surrounding wilderness. That left Finn sitting and watching the fire, by himself.

Mostly.

He was cross-legged, his staff propped sideways in his lap, and he idly rested his hands on its wooden shaft. Dorian sat down a few feet from him now, firelight flickering across his proud, noble profile. He didn't speak for a second or two, giving Finn some time to listen to the night sounds around them – the stomping and scuffing of druffalo's feet in the grassy pens nearby, the murmuring of wind through the oaks, the occasional hoot of a great horned owl.

The whiskey had settled his nerves somewhat, and he felt immensely moronic for almost forcing Dorian away because of Finn's sudden, reckless attraction to him. Moronic and selfish.

"So," Dorian said after a moment, "you're Dalish, yes? That's the word for it down south?"

"That's it," Finn said, nodding. He had to give Dorian credit for searching for the right term, despite his Tevinter heritage. "For me, personally, you could probably swap out Dalish for Crazy-Arsehole-Elf and still be correct."

Dorian laughed lightly, his posture relaxing. It occurred to Finn that he might've been unsure of how Finn would respond to the question, just based off of the typical unsavory relationships between most Tevinters and elves.

"I haven't seen any solid evidence for 'arsehole'," Dorian mentioned. "Crazy, though, is probably a fitting description. Not many people cause a blizzard in a Chantry in their zeal to take down a demon." He glanced over and trained his eyes on Finn. "I see why the dwarf has dubbed you 'Frosty.'"

"Yeah…Varric does that." Finn knew Dorian would end up with a moniker at some point soon; Varric seemed a little suspicious of the Tevinter mage when he and Finn had appeared at camp, but he'd warmed up almost immediately when Dorian had mentioned he'd been to Kirkwall once. The two of them had taken turns insulting the ale in the Hanged Man in Kirkwall's Lowtown, and Finn had relaxed at that.

"At any rate," Dorian said, shifting where he sat and leaning one tanned hand on the dirt beneath him, "I hope our people's shared histories don't cause any animosity between us. I _am _here to help, after all."

Finn chuckled. "Trust me, I'm the last person you'll have a problem with."

Dorian smiled, reaching his free hand for the fire and brushing his fingers through it, the tendrils of flame caressing his skin. A mage had to be extraordinarily resistant to his element of choice if he wanted to use it on a daily basis – just as Finn's skin could handle enormous amounts of cold, he was sure Dorian had practiced so much with fire that he resisted its burns.

"I'm curious, then," Dorian said, drawing his hand back to his side, "what is it like, to be a mage amongst the Dalish? I can't imagine your people have educational circles like we do in Tevinter."

"Terrifying, during the early years." Finn rested his elbow on one knee. "A clan won't tolerate more than two mages at a time. Keeper and their First. Had I not proven myself and been chosen as the Keeper's apprentice, I'd have been thrown out of the clan to be wolf-fodder. We have to choose the clan's safety as a whole over an individual mage's."

Dorian whistled. "Rather barbaric, don't you think?"

"It is," Finn said. He wouldn't pretend it wasn't, not when he could have been killed so easily for a gift – or curse – he'd been born with. "Some castaway mages find their way to civilization and are taken in by an alienage, or by a clan that doesn't have a Keeper's First. Those are the lucky ones. Most of them, well…get devoured by a wild animal."

"Such different lives we lead," Dorian said, as if to himself. Then he glanced down at Finn's staff, where the butt of it nearly brushed his armored robes. "Lovely staff you have. May I take a look at it?"

"Sure." Finn resisted making a raunchy "staff" joke and slid the entirety of the it sideways to Dorian's lap.

Dorian lifted it so it stood vertical and studied it, and Finn watched him. He _was _proud of his staff; he'd had it since he was only five years old. His Keeper hadn't believed in stifling Finn's magical inclinations, and she'd had that staff made for him as a gift. He knew its unique look even without the bright light of the sun – rich, dark red wood with a subtle threading to it along the shaft, carved into a slight twist of thick branches at the head with a large globe of aquamarine crystal resting within the twist. Bigger and more powerful staves had crossed paths with him along the years, but Finn had never had the heart to give up this one; it had been with him for so long that it was more an old friend than a weapon.

"Mahogany?" Dorian guessed, lightly sliding his tanned hand along the shaft to feel the knots and grains.

"Rosewood," Finn corrected, smiling. "I've had it since I was a child."

"It's cold," Dorian noted. "Someone doesn't use many flames spells, do they?"

Finn chuckled. "Not many, no. I suppose it's painfully obvious which element I prefer."

"You were skilled at a young age, I take it," Dorian said, sliding the staff back to Finn. "Considering you're sitting here and not a pile of rotting bones out in the forest."

Finn felt himself unwinding the more Dorian talked to him. It was nice, he thought, to be finding friends even during such a traumatic time in his life. Friends like Solas and Varric, and potentially Dorian as well, given enough time.

He nodded in answer, allowing himself a smile. "I'm all right at it. Enough for my clan, at least. And enough to not end up as a sad little elf-smear on the ground after the Battle of Denerim."

"So you're of the humble variety." Dorian smirked. "One does not survive the Fifth Blight by being '_weeeeellll-I'm-sort-of-an-okay-mage', _Finn. But I digress. What was the battle like? What do you remember? I was always fascinated by it."

Finn obliged, telling Dorian all about how his Keeper had given him his robin's-egg blue _vallaslin _early so he'd go to war as an adult – never mind that he'd only just turned sixteen and the whole process hurt like _shit _but he'd been expected to not make a single noise_ – _and how he and a few hunters had traveled all the way down south to Redcliffe only to realize the darkspawn horde had marched northeast on Denerim, how they'd essentially hauled arse across Ferelden to save the capital city.

"I'd say it was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating," he continued. "I'd never seen so much _spellcasting _in one place." He was only half aware of his voice speeding up excitedly as he talked. "There were darkspawn absolutely everywhere, and they're _disgusting, _mind you, but blasting them to shreds? Out of this world. I could barely move without tripping over another clansman, or a circle mage, or a dwarf warrior, or one of Arl Eamon's troops. I actually _did _trip over the dwarves a lot, embarrassingly enough. Maybe it sound stupid, but I have really fond memories of the battle. I learned so much. I realized how much bigger the world was." He shook his head, raking his hand through his hair and pulling on a snarl. "I just rambled, didn't I? How long did I go on? Sorry."

"Ha! You're _sorry_? For talking? I asked, didn't I?" Dorian idly rubbed his jaw. "I can't say I don't understand enjoying a good battle."

"Glad _somebody _does," Finn said, breathing out a short burst of a laugh through his nose. "It's embarrassing now – but I actually tried to bet one of the dwarves there that I could get an ice bolt into a hurlock's mouth. He, uh…wasn't amused."

"That sounds like an entertaining bet." Dorian's grey eyes sparked with the thrill of a challenge. "I'll take it."

"You will?" Finn sputtered.

"Surprised?" Dorian said. "I happen to like bets just as much. I'll bet you an ale that you _can't _get an ice bolt in an enemy's mouth. And no cheating by splitting the thing's face open. It has to be perfectly in its mouth or you lose. One try only."

"You're on," Finn said. "But if I win, it can't be shitty ale."

"That's a tall order, seeing as we're in _Ferelden_."

"You like a challenge, don't you?" Finn shifted where he sat, swiveling just a touch to face Dorian, the tips of his fingers tingling. "_Oh. _I've got one for you. I'll bet you can't chug an entire flagon of bad dwarven ale. Two silvers. If you spit any of it out, I win."

Dorian snorted, looking mildly horrified. "_Finn. _I hadn't taken you for a sadist." But then his eyes flashed and he smiled wide. "I'll take that one as well, if I must. But if I'm going to be polluting myself with dwarven swill, I may as well make you suffer in return. How's this – whichever one of us can chug a flagon _faster _wins the bet."

"Oh _creators." _Finn wrinkled his nose. "Vile. I can't _not _take that bet. I should warn you, though… I get _really _silly when I'm drunk."

"Such a tragedy," Dorian teased.

There was a muffled thump from Varric's tent several paces away from the campfire, and then the canvas walls rattled, like he'd thumped them with his fist. A second later… "Count me in!"

"Weren't you supposed to have a headache?" Finn called over to him.

"_Please." _Varric's voice was hard to decipher through the tent walls, but Finn could still understand him – he didn't sound groggy at all. "Nothing could stop me from taking a good bet, Frosty. Tell you what: I'll up the ante, but I get to pick the ale."

"Piss in it!" Sera butted in from within her tent, followed by the sounds of mad giggling.

"And you thought _I _was the sadist," Finn muttered to Dorian, scrubbing his own face with his hands.

"You weren't joking about this odd bunch of yours," Dorian commented. Then he raised his head and called back, "be aware, dwarf, that it's _your _boots I might vomit on."

"I'll take that chance," Varric answered. Then there was a rustling of furs and a thump, as though he'd rolled over and gone back to sleep.

Perhaps he had. Sleep sounded like a splendid idea, now that Finn thought about it. He covered his mouth with a hand and yawned, forcefully expelling the breath with a slumping of his shoulders. Then he grabbed his staff like a walking stick, pushed the butt of it into the dirt beneath him, and hauled himself to his feet. He regarded the tent situation for a moment. They only had three with them – Finn had shared with Solas the past couple days – and he figured Dorian would prefer one to himself, being largely unfamiliar with their group.

"I'm turning in for the night," Finn said to Dorian. "If my tent goes up in smoke, I'm blaming you."

"Fair enough," Dorian said with a half smile.

Finn crossed around the firepit and opened the flap to the tent Varric was in, stooping to get inside. He vaguely heard Dorian retreating to the third tent.

"Out," the dark, prone form on the tent floor that was Varric said.

"Huh?" Finn whispered.

"Are you mad? This shit can't handle three people," Varric said, not bothering to roll over or even look up at Finn. "And you _know _Solas will be back eventually. Out. Away with you."

Finn jammed his hands onto his hips. "Then where, pray tell, am I supposed to sleep? Hanging from a tree? I'm not an _ape."_

Varric's laugh was little more than a rattle. "You've got three options, pal. There's a perfectly nice piece of dirt by the firepit you can stretch out on, or there's a perfectly nice tent next to this one with the Tevinter in it. You're the one who let him come with us, so as far as I'm concerned, if he decides to murder us all in our sleep tonight, you're dying first. It's either that or sleeping with Sera."

Finn froze.

If he slept outside, the thought of being sniffed out by a bear would drive him insane all night. If he crawled into Sera's tent, he'd likely find some unique variety of insect in his bedroll in the morning. If he slept with Dorian… Well, the phrase _slept with Dorian _was enough to get Finn's heart knocking around in his chest like a caged animal trying to get loose.

"You can't be serious," he hissed at Varric. "There's room in here. It'll be cozy."

"Solas did tell me you're a bit of a sleep-cuddler," Varric said, still chuckling to himself.

Ah, that… When they'd woken up the previous morning, Solas said Finn had been resting his head on Solas's arm, blissfully unaware, despite the abundance of rolled furs that could be used as a pillow. Solas had given Finn a patient smile when he'd told him, saying he was fully aware that not everything could be controlled during sleep, but…

"Don't tell me you don't want to cuddle with me, Varric," Finn tried.

"I'd rather shove bamboo shoots under my nails," Varric quipped. "Out. Don't make me wake up Bianca and tell her to kick your ass."

Finn paused, gave Varric an unsavory hand gesture even though he knew Varric couldn't see it, and backed out of the tent. Then he straightened, popping his back and stalling. Eventually he realized he couldn't stand out here in the chilly air and mull over the problem forever; with a deep breath he went over to the tent Dorian had gone into and pushed his way in.

"You're not one for knocking, are you?" Dorian asked, looking up at Finn; he was currently sitting cross-legged on the tent floor with a fur draped half over him and a book open on his lap, using a tiny sparking flame from his hand as a reading light. "Varric gave you the eviction notice?"

"Yeah," Finn said, sinking down on his knees and letting the tent flap fall into place behind him. "Exactly how does one knock on canvas?"

"With their knuckles, naturally," Dorian said. "I suppose if you wanted to be exemplary and achieve the right sound, you could hold your staff up to the entrance and knock on that. Rather too late, though." And with that he returned his eyes to the book.

"I guess I'm too plebeian for your fancy staff-knocking," Finn said, sitting down and leaning back on his hands. Stupid, maybe, but for a moment he was too nervous to lie down all the way.

"You're fancy enough to use the word plebeian," Dorian said, raising an eyebrow.

Finn shrugged. "Maybe so."

It was going to be a long night, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>Finn felt blissfully warm in the tent the following morning. He drifted in and out of a sort of blissful, idyllic peace. He knew he was on his stomach, sprawled on top of what he decided was a firm stack of furs, but he felt so comfortable he decided not to move. Nor could he; his eyes remained firmly shut as he flip-flopped in and out of consciousness.<p>

Something rustled near his head, something that sounded almost like a page being turned, and he sighed, too groggy to investigate.

"Turn down the pancakes," he muttered sleepily, barely aware of the nonsense coming out of his mouth. One couldn't expect much logic out of a sleep-talker. "They're too purple. It makes them sad."

"If you say so," a man's voice answered with a quick laugh.

Hold a moment – why had he felt the man's voice vibrating beneath him? And why could he feel _breathing?_

…

No longer tired, Finn's eyes snapped open, and he realized he was sprawled on Dorian's stomach with his head resting at the bottom of his ribcage and his arm flung sideways over the furs.

"_Creators' balls_," Finn cussed, scrambling upright and staring down at Dorian with wide, horrified eyes; Dorian glanced up from the book propped on his chest with an expression of barely-contained amusement. "Creators. Gods. _Shite. _I don't even… I am _so _sorry – "

Dorian burst into laughter, shutting the book with a loud thump and tossing it to the furs beside him. "Your subconscious couldn't resist, I take it. No harm done. At least I got a space heater out of the deal. Your Fereldan winters are awfully _brisk."_

"I should have warned you," Finn said, starting to babble in his humiliation. "I do that when I sleep. Sometimes. Not always. I did it to Solas the night before. It's a bad habit, I know, but I can't _control _it, so there's _that_…" He glanced over at Dorian's book. "Why, exactly, did you not throw me off?"

"You looked too content to move," Dorian said nonchalantly, still laughing softly to himself as he watched Finn have a mild heart attack.

That wasn't just casual, accidental sleep-cuddling like he'd done to Solas; his treacherous self had actually sprawled out _on top of Dorian _while he'd slept. Creators knew he'd only just met the man yesterday. The fact that Dorian hadn't decided to kill him when he did it seemed a complete miracle. Finn had really been enjoying himself the evening prior, too, thinking he'd overcome his awkwardness around Dorian, thinking they'd started on the path towards friendship… If Dorian wasn't completely disgusted with Finn at the moment, then the man was a saint.

Even worse, the more devilish part of Finn's brain was still fixated on how damn _good_ that had felt for the split second before he'd moved.

Mortified, Finn closed his eyes and scrubbed them with his fists. "Seriously, I'm so sorry… If I ever do that again, feel free to slap me, punch me, throw a rock at me, roll me down a hill into a raging river, _anything_. Just, uh…no bears. Preferably."

"No bears," Dorian agreed, leaning up on one elbow.

Finn's face felt hotter than the surface of the sun and redder than a basket of tomatoes; without saying much more on the matter, he ducked out of the tent in his under-armor, noticing that Solas, Varric, and Sera were already sitting by the fire and eating strips of dried meat for breakfast. Solas and Varric had found a long log to sit on with a space between them, and Sera sat opposite them, giving Solas a wry look whenever she cast a glance his way.

"Ah, Finirial," Solas greeted. "Sleep well?"

Finn just walked past Varric to get to the packs they'd set out that morning, cuffing the dwarf on the shoulder as he went. "Arsehole."

Varric's answering laughter was so loud and raucous it nearly split Finn's head open – at least, it felt like it. "Is that my newest term of endearment, Frosty?"

"It's what I will probably call you for the rest of my life," Finn grumbled, sifting around in his pack for what rations he had left.

"It appears I'm the last up," Dorian said, exiting the tent in full armor and looking as absurdly perfect as he had the day before. He sat down near Sera and rested a hand on his knee. "That might take some getting used to. We're close to Haven, yes? I'm afraid this area's _rustic_ _charm_ is lost on me."

"Pretty close," Varric answered. "Too much dirt in your boots?"

"Even Haven's better than this shite," Sera grumbled, making a face at Solas. "I'd rather smell a mountain of horse arse than listen to elfy elves talk about their _grand elfy empire."_

"Trust me," Solas said, "I will no longer be making the mistake of attempting intelligent conversation with you in the near future."

"That's right!" Sera said triumphantly.

Still kneeling at his pack, Finn seriously contemplated trying to stuff himself into his pack for the duration of the journey home. Haven… it _really _couldn't appear on the horizon soon enough.


	13. The Magister's Summons

_Quick note – as Mooncloudpanther pointed out, the limit of mages in a clan is typically 3. Oops! Unless I edit the previous chapter, let's just pretend Finn is incredibly unobservant. :P_

_Thank you all for your lovely words and encouragements! If I could give you all big hugs, I totally would._

* * *

><p><strong>The Magister's Summons<strong>

Nani's group caught up with Finn's about an hour outside of Haven, at a fork in the snowed over mountain road.

Her group was only slightly smaller than his; she'd been accompanied home by the leader of the Bull's Chargers, a massive horned Qunari with a penchant for going shirtless and rippling back muscles Nani had never before seen in her life. Iron Bull, he called himself – when asked, he said he liked that the moniker made him seem more like a mindless weapon than a person. His size had intimidated Nani at first; the top of her head only reached his nipples, after all, which were proudly on display even in the icy weather just outside of Haven.

The rest of the Chargers had stuck behind in the Storm Coast to finish up business; they'd come to Haven soon enough, Bull said.

She'd expected Finn to return with many mages, and yet she could spot only one. Had negotiations gone sour? Perhaps the man with him was an emissary of sorts. She could only hope.

"Finn!" she greeted happily when they were only paces apart; she jogged the remaining distance and wrapped her arms around her brother's middle, briefly resting her chin over his shoulder. "I'm glad you're safe. Sorry you had to do that without me."

Finn laughed, squeezing her in return, and she felt safe and secure again.

"Doing it alone was the least of my worries," he said, letting go of her. "I should, uh…introduce you to Dorian."

"Good morning," the black-haired mage greeted her, bending slightly at the waist and performing a proper half-bow. He stood a step or two behind Finn and in front of Solas and Sera, the latter of which was alternating between scuffing her boot in the snow and making faces at Solas. "Dorian of House Pavus, at your service."

"Pavus," Iron Bull huffed under his breath to Nanyehi, moving to stand beside her. "That's a Vint name. I'd be careful, Boss. The pretty ones are always the worst."

"Yes, yes, let's listen to the hulking, one-eyed _Qunari_ insult the _eeeeevil_, treacherous Vint." Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "I've heard it all, truly."

"Here we go," Finn said, sighing.

"The cuddly elf said in a frustrated aside to the handsome dwarf," Varric narrated from Finn's side.

Finn rolled his eyes. "This again? I will _never _live that down."

"Tevinter?" Cassandra said. She moved up to Nanyehi's other side, little white bits of snow frosting her short, inky black hair. "Our mage allies are from Tevinter? Is this truly wise?"

"Of _course _not," Blackwall grumbled behind her.

Nani'd had enough trouble convincing Blackwall that allying with Iron Bull and his mercenary band wouldn't cause some Qunari-related complication along the way; luckily, Cassandra hadn't voiced any objections. Of the two of them, Cassandra had been Nani's most agreeable companion when she ventured to the lush, rainy Storm Coast, even getting into some long talks with Nani about more personal things that she might not have shared with others.

Unlike Finn, Nani had trouble making friends, and didn't make them often – having Cassandra at her side was more of a blessing than the warmaiden might ever know.

"An explanation would be lovely," Nanyehi said, looking back and forth between Finn and Dorian.

"Your prospective mage allies are not Tevinter, rest assured," Dorian said, taking a step forward to stand next to Finn. Nani noticed the top of her brother's head only reached Dorian's jaw; the man must've been relatively tall, although using Finn as means to measure height wasn't exactly accurate. Her brother wasn't _tiny _for an elf, no, but he certainly wasn't the tallest. And Dorian was well-fit, too; Nani couldn't help but notice the muscles standing out on his arms. "Rather, there's a time-altering, world-ripping magic trapping your mages in a Tevinter cult's hands at this very moment." He rested one hand on his hip. "I've returned with your brother to aid your cause. And to look dashing. That part's less difficult."

Nani spared a quick glance at Finn, who turned his head and silently mouthed _I'll say _to one of the snow-frosted trees around them. She raised her eyebrows.

"Something strange is at work in Redcliffe," Solas added. "Something immensely dangerous. I did not step inside the village, and I still felt the tears in the Veil."

"Veil, shmeil," Sera said.

Solas aimed a particularly venomous sigh her way.

"You say Tevinter mages have come all this way to trap the rebel mages in Redcliffe?" Cassandra summarized. Her brown eyes narrowed into slits. "Why do this? This seems awfully dangerous to be involved in."

"We can't let this threat go unanswered," Finn said calmly, shaking his head. "Not just to protect innocent mages, no matter our thoughts on the matter, but because letting Magister Alexius freely use those powers in Redcliffe is bound to blow us all to smithereens at some point."

"What was it you said about time-altering?" Nanyehi asked Dorian.

"I should explain when we reach Haven," the mage said, looking up the mountain to where their village stood strong against the elements. "It's best if we deliberate with your leaders, yes?"

"Maybe so," Nani said. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "But I expect a verbose, ten page essay of what the hell's going on when we get there."

"Lovely. I'm back to receiving homework," Dorian said. "Very well. Off we go."

* * *

><p>Their group split off into smaller clumps during the hour it took to reach Haven. Nani took the front, walking in step with Cassandra, who very likely wanted nothing to do with the mages behind them, let alone Sera, who'd taken up a strange conversation about Qunari women with Iron Bull. Nani's ears picked up the other conversations as well – Solas and Varric talking idly about the phenomenon at Redcliffe, Dorian animatedly telling Finn about his days studying in the Circle at Vyrantium. Blackwall had taken the back as requested, to guard the squishier members of their traveling party against the errant bear or wolf or nug.<p>

"This is _crap," _Bull said as they neared Haven's training grounds. "I'm surrounded by elves, and not one is willing to be tossed at an enemy."

"We're not grenades, you daft tit," Sera said.

Nani just about knew what was coming before her brother even made a noise.

"Tell you what, Bull," Finn said, probably ignoring Nani's groan, "the next time we see an enemy, you can fling me. Just don't throw me right into a charging bronto or anything."

"Yes, _that's _bound to end well," Dorian commented, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Nice!" Bull sounded triumphant. "What about that nug over there. Does it count?"

Finn was silent for a moment. "Ha…ha…no."

"Damn," Bull grunted.

Nanyehi spotted Cullen standing where he usually stood in the training grounds, instructing recruits, and her heart throbbed just a little, though she'd never admit that to anyone. She lifted her hand in a casual wave when he spotted her, and he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and strode over.

"You're back," he said, sounding breathy. "I take it both missions were successful?"

"Not…entirely," she said, frowning and shaking her head. "Let's head to the war room. There are some big decisions that need to be made."

* * *

><p>Only Nanyehi, Finn, Cassandra, and Dorian accompanied Cullen back to the war room. Sera returned to the tavern – followed by Iron Bull, who expressed a need for a stiff drink – Solas went off to…who knew where, and Blackwall had gone to his favorite haunt by the blacksmith to watch the recruits train from afar. Nani stood next to Cassandra and watched Dorian take a spot next to Finn, leaning over the table and studying the map with keen interest in his timberwolf grey eyes.<p>

"You should know, Nanyehi, that we received a curious letter from a Magister Gereon Alexius by bird this morning," Josephine informed her, tucking a wavy strand of black hair behind her ear. "He asked for you. By name. He also mentioned that the Southern mages are now under his wing. This is news to us."

"He _had _told me he wanted to meet her," Finn mentioned. "Why, I'm not sure."

"We _do _know why." Dorian straightened up, looking around the room. "Or, at least, we can hazard a guess."

"And you are?" Cullen asked.

"This is Dorian of House Pavus," Finn answered for him, doing a dramatic bow and hand sweep. "Yes, he's from Tevinter, _no_, he's not a magister, and _yes_, he's here to help us secure the mages. Also, he's pleased to meet you all. As is his moustache."

"Goodness me, you've already memorized my entire speech." Dorian looked like he was about to laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing.

"Am I supposed to greet Dorian's moustache separately, then?" Nanyehi asked.

"If you like," Dorian said agreeably.

"Here's the thing." Finn explained what he'd seen at Redcliffe, explained the weird, time-warping rifts, Fiona's surrender, and the way Magister Alexius had swooped into Redcliffe and stolen the mages right out from under them - with Dorian chipping in at intervals, of course. "…and, lastly, he appears to be part of a Venatori cult who's obsessed with Nanyehi. That's why I'm not surprised he asked for her by name."

"What a bunch of rubbish," Cullen said. "We're supposed to just let them have her?"

Nani was half inclined to agree, and yet…she'd seen odd things before. This wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for a world as bizarre as Thedas was. Hell, the scar on her hand proved she wasn't always meant to expect or understand things. If Finn trusted Dorian's word, then she'd trust Finn's judgment.

"If Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister, then we should not ignore it." Cassandra thumped a gauntleted hand on the table's thick wooden surface. "This should not be allowed to stand."

"We do not have the manpower to take the castle," Cullen reminded her. "Our recruits are much too raw, and Redcliffe is extremely fortified. That castle stood against the Fifth Blight, remember? It has repelled thousands of assaults. We should give up this nonsense and investigate the Templars."

"We can't abandon the mages to Tevinter," Nani said, fingering a loose thread on her armor.

"Much as I'm inclined to jump in and defend my idiot countrymen, I must agree," Dorian said.

"Yes." Leliana clasped her hands behind her back. "A Tevinter magister controls Redcliffe, invites our Herald to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do _nothing?"_

"Leliana – " Josephine started.

"Listen to me, Josie." Leliana traced a slender finger over Redcliffe's location on the map. "If we don't even _try, _we'll lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep. We all know we can't let this happen."

"So we assault the keep?" Josephine asked. "Even if we could, it would be for naught. An Orlesian Inquisition's army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied!"

"We're Orlesian now?" Finn said. "Well, shit."

Cassandra sighed and Dorian chuckled at almost the same time.

"I'm not saying we assault the keep," Leliana said, lifting her chin. "We won't need to. Our Herald has an invitation, yes? She can make arrangements with Magister Alexius."

"And put herself in danger?" Cullen snapped. "I won't allow it."

"She will have me, as always," Cassandra said. "We cannot accept defeat now."

"I have to do this," Nanyehi said, steeling herself, hardening her will into solid rock. She could be a stubborn arse if she had to be. "We can't ignore having Tevinter forces in Redcliffe. That could turn sour in a heartbeat. And if I don't oblige and visit him, he might grow more forceful."

"I don't – " Cullen began.

"She is right on that account, Commander," Dorian said firmly. "Alexius will not throw up his hands and meekly drag his feet back to Minrathous if we ignore his summons."

Leliana nodded. "Precisely. Which is why we send a small force, namely the Herald and a few others, into Redcliffe. She won't have the cushion of a battalion, but she'll have a _chance _when an army would not."

Cullen rubbed his forehead. He looked worried – for the Inquisition's future, in case she died and took the mark with her? That was the only reason Nani could think of.

"I can get in through the main gate, if he's inviting me," Nani said. "But what about any backup? How would they sneak in without being noticed?"

"There's a way." Leliana clasped her hands in front of her, lost in thought for a moment. "It was ten years ago, but I believe I can point you to what I'm thinking of. Arl Teagan showed us a hidden escape route for his family that leads into the castle. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send some agents through. We'd need a distraction – perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?"

Nanyehi nodded her approval. "I can do that."

"Fortunately, you'll also have me," Dorian reminded her, a spark in his eyes. "I'm familiar with Alexius's magical shenanigans, and I can help you, should things go south. Pardon the geography pun."

Cullen regarded Dorian with a suspicious look for just a moment, then turned his eyes back to Nanyehi. "You're certain you want to go through with this?"

"Completely," Nanyehi said.

"Then I suppose it's settled," Josephine conceded.

"We should not tarry." Leliana walked around the table, making for the fortified door and pausing just before she left. "If you could depart for Redcliffe tomorrow morning, Herald, that would be most wise. I would suggest bringing no more than four others with you – more would make Magister Alexius needlessly suspicious."

Nani distractedly watched Leliana leave, Josephine following shortly after her. She knew Finn would come with her, and that settled her greatly. They'd survived worse things already, overcome much more ridiculous odds – there was no way they'd fail here. She wouldn't let herself. Not when the stakes were so high.

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, Nani," Finn said, giving her a last pat on the shoulder before he, too, left the war room. Then Dorian departed, leaving Nani alone with Cullen.

She was about to leave as well, when he cleared his throat.

"A word?" he said.

"Certainly." She leaned on one hip, half expecting to be chewed out for their decision.

"I…" He shook his head, glancing briefly at the floor. "Doing this will put you in grave danger. You understand that, don't you? We should not have the right to force you to do this. Say the word, and I'll do everything in my power to secure the Templars. You have only to ask."

"I don't mind a bit of danger," she said, shrugging.

"If you died, I – all hope would be lost. You must know that."

"I do."

"Then I suppose there's nothing more to be said." He strode past her, pausing to look down at her with those warm brown eyes of his. "Be safe. You're all we have."

And with that, he left her standing alone in the war room, staring at a flickering lantern on the wall and trying to make sense of literally her entire life thus far.


	14. Back to the Future

_I couldn't resist the title._

_So - I'm sort of using the Redcliffe map from Origins for the escape route coming from the castle, since I don't think it's ever specifically mentioned where it is in Inquisition. I know the castle designs have been changed around a bit, but Leliana does mention there being the escape route (and she'd know of it, having been a major part of Origins) so there's that._

* * *

><p><strong>Back to the Future<strong>

It nearly seemed overkill, Finn thought, hiding a few Inquisition spies in the hilly forests outside Redcliffe and telling them to sneak into the castle a little while after them for backup purposes.

But necessary, probably. Once inside, Nani was only accompanied by Cassandra, Iron Bull, Dorian, and Finn himself; if she ran into trouble, and if Alexius decided to try and fry her into the floor like an egg and eat her for breakfast, the troops would be close by to prevent that sort of thing.

Redcliffe Castle loomed ahead of them, all black and imposing, a bulwark against the wind and rain and sea; it sat on a blackened rock island of sorts, connected to the village by nothing save a few wooden boats rocking in the ocean's swells. Finn gazed up at its expanse as the five of them neared the village market, wondering how they could've built such a castle without losing workers.

Perhaps there _had_ been casualties.

Speaking of casualties, there'd nearly been one when they closed the rift outside Redcliffe's gates; Iron Bull's blood-spattering, earth-rumbling reaver tactics had whipped him into such a frenzy that he'd nearly decapitated Finn with a whirlwind swing while taking down a shade. Had Dorian not grabbed the back of Finn's armor and yanked him out of the way, well…he'd be headless, and the group would be Finn-less.

Before he could step any further, Dorian grabbed the crook of his arm, pulling him a step back.

"I've got a thought, Nanyehi," Dorian said, still holding onto Finn's arm; Nani, Cassandra and Bull stopped, turning to face the two mages.

"Only one?" Finn said. "That's not like you."

"This should be good," Bull said.

Dorian gave Bull a particularly acidic frown. "_Yeeeess. _This is the point where the evil Vint pushes the lot of you off the cliffs and cackles madly to himself as he skips back to Tevinter. No, my thought is this – you won't want to put all of your cards on the table, as it were. Alexius doesn't even know I'm here. If a couple of us, namely Finn and myself, don't show ourselves up front, we can use the element of surprise to our advantage should things get…dicey."

Nani didn't speak for a moment, her aquamarine eyes flickering back and forth between Finn and Dorian.

"Good," she said finally. "That's good. I like it. Cassandra and Bull should be intimidating enough, but he might miscalculate and not account for any mages if you two stay hidden."

"Then it's settled." Dorian plopped a hand on Finn's shoulder, pushing him a little further away from the three of them (not without resistance, of course). "We'll be close by. Count on it."

"_Hey," _Finn protested. "Nani, I should be in there with you."

But Dorian's hand was firm on his shoulder, and his grip tightened every time Finn tried to make a move towards his sister.

Nanyehi rolled her eyes. "I'll be safe, Finn. Besides, this makes sense. Don't forget everything I've taught you about sneaking, all right? You may need it."

Cassandra must've caught Finn's worried expression as well, because her normally fierce eyes softened just a touch, and she clapped hand briefly on Nanyehi's shoulder. "She will not come to harm with me here, Finn," she promised him. "And as much as I hate to agree with the Tevinter, it makes sense for us to do this."

Finn's shoulders slumped, and he gave a noncommittal half-smile. "I suppose."

Nani sucked in a deep breath and expelled it loudly, obviously trying to settle some nerves. "It'll be fine, Finn." She turned to the two warriors. "Let's not waste any more time."

"Here goes," Bull said as he, Nani, and Cassandra turned and headed for the castle.

Finn watched them go, wondering if he wouldn't make it into the castle too late and if this glimpse of his sister's back and her wine-red hair would be his last. He crossed his arms and looked up at Dorian, raising an eyebrow. "Are you pleased with yourself?"

"Immensely," Dorian said with a confident grin. "_Oh, _you speak of our discussion just now. It's all strategy, Finn. Haven't you gambled before? Never throw all your cards on the table from the get-go. You must always keep a secret tool at your disposal."

"Oh, I've got a tool with me," Finn huffed.

Dorian's black brows threatened to reach his hairline, his eyes heavy-lidded and suspicious. "Rather hostile today, are we?"

Finn's shoulders slumped and he breathed out a sharp breath. "I'm sorry. I tend to get…well, overprotective of Nani. Older brother issues and all. And it worries me to not be in there."

"I understand the sentiment." Dorian peered across the water at the castle. "But I wouldn't start fretting. We'll be in there shortly, so long as we aren't noticed by any Venatori."

"Fair enough," Finn said. "How do you propose we get in? No doubt there are guards everywhere." He agitatedly pulled at a strand of his white hair. "There's a servant's entrance somewhere, I'll bet. Oh! Didn't Leliana mention that tunnel through the windmill?"

Dorian smiled triumphantly. "Right you are."

"How does it reach the castle?" Finn mused aloud. "Does it go _under _the water? What an odd thought."

"Stranger things have been built," Dorian mentioned.

"There's something I don't understand." Finn cocked his head in confusion. "Why'd you pull _me_ back? You could've pulled Bull back with you, then unleashed the Qunari surprise on the Venatori and had him rip their arses in half. Why not guard our most terrifying asset?"

"One, that was astoundingly raunchy," Dorian mentioned. "Bravo. And two – well, that reason will have to be my own."

Finn frowned. "I'm not allowed to know?"

"I have to keep some secrets, don't I? Where would I be without my mysterious flair?" Dorian dropped his hand, which Finn realized had been on his shoulder the whole time, and set off down the village road. "Come along. Let's reach that windmill."

"We're going to have to be quick," Finn mentioned, lengthening his stride to keep up with Dorian's longer legs. Fern leaves and broken twigs crunched under his feet. "Negotiations could go south extremely fast, and I don't want Nani to get into trouble without me being there."

"_Finn." _Dorian sounded half-exasperated, half-bemused. "She's a successful hunter, yes? Led many hunting parties and all that? Goodness knows she can probably handle herself."

"I know that." Finn shrugged as they walked hastily past a merchant peddling common herbs and baubles in the middle of town. His shoulder nearly brushed a woman carrying a basket of leeks, but he dodged her just in time. "But I hate taking chances. She's the only family I've got left."

"You don't consider your clan as your family?" Dorian threaded through a group of squabbling woman, who gave both men rather lascivious up-and-down glances as they passed.

Finn shook his head with a wry tweak to his mouth. "I kind of had to abandon that when we came here. I have no idea if I'll ever see them again, with the way things are going. You know, Thedas about to be destroyed and all."

"I know the feeling," Dorian said.

They reached the windmill at the top of the hill shortly, and Finn marveled at what it once was. Ten years ago, when he'd come to Redcliffe because the Wardens had mistakenly believed the darkspawn horde would come there, the windmill had been a proud edifice, a strong stone fixture over the cliffs. Now most of the stones had crumbled, leaving a gaping maw exposed in the windmill's side, and others were choked with vines and weeds.

Still, a secret entrance was a secret entrance.

"Wow," Finn said, briefly resting his hands on his hips and gazing up at the ruined tower. "The Blight really took a shit on this building."

"Eloquently put, my friend," Dorian teased. "Didn't the Blight, as you say, take a shit on everything?"

"Close. It tried." Finn stepped carefully over scattered chunks of rubble, waving dust out of his face. "The Wardens stopped it, thank the Creators."

"You might give yourself a bit of the accolades," Dorian commented, following him inside. The other mage coughed. "Delightful. I think I've just picked up a lung disease."

Finn chuckled. "You'll live." He spotted a conspicuous looking mess of loose gravel on the floor, and he crossed over to it, nudging aside the pieces with his foot. As he suspected, beneath it was a noticeable trapdoor, its planks rotted with age. "Just as she said. The family's old escape route."

"So it would seem." Dorian crouched at the trapdoor, heaving it open with a loud _thunk. _"Hard to tell how far the drop is. There doesn't seem to be a ladder leading down, at least not anymore."

"Only one way to find out!" Finn leapt feet-first through the opening, dropping through it with a cold rushing of wind; he held his arms out to brace himself, the breath _whoosh_ing out of his lungs as his feet hit the stone floor hard.

"You mad bastard," Dorian called down. "Did you die when you hit the floor?"

"I'd be inclined to say no," Finn called back up.

He took the moment to study their new surroundings as Dorian followed him down through the opening. Despite the darkness, he could make out sloped stone ceilings and rows of barred iron doors along the sides of the tunnels; it appeared they'd entered Redcliffe Castle's prisons. Luckily, as Finn stepped silently through the tunnel and checked each cell, it seemed they were vacant.

"I'd light a fire, but that might alert any Venatori to our location," Dorian said. "So that leaves us with impaired eyesight. Me, at least. You've got that bizarre, neon shine your eyes pick up in the dark. Helps you see, doesn't it? I believe we call it _tapetum lucidum _back home."

"So _that's _what it is," Finn said. He'd been wondering if the word for it would be elven or tevene. "Yeah, I can see just fine. But you never know. I could 'accidentally' steer you into a cabinet and 'accidentally' bump the lock and leave you in there for the rest of eternity."

"How gallant," Dorian said dryly. "At least I'd make a ridiculously handsome corpse."

"That's us. The gallant elfy prince and the handsome dead guy." Finn stepped up his pace to a jog, to cover more ground faster; this tunnel was the longest he'd ever seen. His feet barely made a noise on the cold stone floors.

He finally reached the end of the long cavern after what felt like an hour and peered out, motioning for Dorian to follow. "I don't know if we're in the cellars or what, but I bet I can find a passage that takes us into the main body of the castle. I think I can recognize Alexius's voice once it's close enough – if I can catch it, we're home free."

"You can hear that far?" Dorian asked as Finn made his way down the dusty old hallway, past a few closed wooden doors and down a ninety-degree turn. "Astonishing. I should study you more often."

"I hear all, _ma'falon_." Finn tugged at his ear. "Ears this big can even hear your thoughts."

Dorian laughed softly to himself. "I wonder if you'd like what you heard there."

"Hard to know, considering I'm lying out of my arse." Finn jogged down the hall to the end, nearly bumping into a rickety end table in his haste. His suspicions about a cutaway in the wall had been correct; upon inspection, he saw a set of stairs spiraling upwards. He hesitated, catching a noise in the hall directly above. "I hear voices. Venatori?"

"Likely," Dorian said. "Alexius is confident, but not stupid. He'll have guards on rotation in the halls. If we're fortunate, we'll catch a small group and get by before another comes our way."

Finn briefly looked over his shoulder. "They can't know you're here. They'll recognize you immediately. But me… I'll bet I could pass for a suspicious elven servant. Enough to get their attention, at least. Here." He unstrapped his staff and handed it to Dorian. "Hang onto this. I'm going to see if I can draw them away. Or distract them so you can get by."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You're off your rocker. You know that, don't you?"

"At least I never falsely advertised." Finn offered Dorian a quick grin, then ran up the stairs towards the voices.

His ears hadn't misled him; in the short hallway at the top of the stairs he saw what looked like two Tevinter troops – didn't seem to be of the mage variety – leaning against the walls and talking to each other. Wanting to play the part of an errant servant, he whistled out of tune as he approached, keeping his head down to see if they'd let him pass.

They didn't; one of the men grabbed his shoulder before he could walk fully by, saying, "_hey. _Where'd you get that armor, knife-ear? You steal it from someone?"

"Of course not, my good ser." Finn bowed. "Where'd you get _your _armor?"

"You're full of shit, _elf_." The man gave his shoulder a hefty shove, and Finn bumped back against the wall. Next thing Finn knew the man grabbed his jaw, turning his face back and forth. "Say, you aren't half bad looking, and you aren't even a lady. Good thing I don't discriminate."

Of all the… Did the Venatori have _any _redeeming qualities?

"Why don't you pull off that armor?" the other man said, appearing at his friend's shoulder. "Give it to someone who can actually make use of it."

Finn tightened his eyes into a glare. "I don't know, why don't I stuff it up your arse instead? I think it's big enough to hold it, considering it's been housing your _head _all these years."

The first man pulled his fist back and cracked it into Finn's jaw; Finn slammed back against the wall, grit his teeth, recovered, and smashed his fist into the man's nose. Damn good thing neither of them were wearing helms of any sort, or that would've broken Finn's hand. The man reeled back into the second one, and both stumbled, only to burst into flames. Finn watched the incinerated bodies crumple to the ground and send up little plumes of ash before he glanced over, spotting Dorian standing in the hall with fire crackling in his right palm.

"_Mmmph," _Finn grunted, rubbing his jaw; he knew it would bruise. "Weren't you supposed to sneak past?"

"Weren't you supposed to refrain from getting punched in the face?" Dorian quipped, extinguishing the fire in his hand and approaching Finn. Something flickered through his grey eyes, something brief and nigh on indecipherable. Without warning he cupped Finn's jaw in his warm hand, tilting his face slightly to get a better look. "That looked like a doozy. And you're going to have a splendid welt there, I'll wager. Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. Bruises are manly, right?" Finn looked up, listening. "I think I hear…Nani, actually. Down that way." He pointed. "Let's go."

Dorian dropped his hand and offered Finn his staff back; Finn returned it to his back before cracking a door open and ducking into the room.

They'd entered a small room with high, arched wooden beams and ornate cabinets at each wall; Finn spotted a heavy, metal-fortified wooden door at the opposite side and jogged lightly over to it, stopping and brushing his ear against it.

"What are you hearing?" Dorian whispered.

Finn listened, catching his sister's voice with a short jolt of relief that she was still alive. But she'd stopped talking, her voice followed immediately by Alexius's. "_My friend_," he whispered, giving Dorian a running narrative of what was going on in the room. "_I've been acquainted with your brother, but I was most looking forward to meeting you. So you are the fabled Herald of Andraste_."

Dorian frowned, getting a wrinkle between his eyebrows that Finn rather wanted to smooth out. "What's he playing at?" he whispered, drowning out Nani's answer. "There's something he wants out of her. That much I know."

Finn nodded, pressing his ear a little harder against the wall. "Nani must've just gotten here. That's a quick escape route we found." He paused, listening. "Alexius… _and your associates, of course. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement that is equitable to all parties. _Nothing from Nani yet… Huh. It's…Fiona. _Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"_

"You handed Redcliffe to the Venatori, you dithering twit," Dorian hissed.

Finn tried not to laugh as he kept listening. "Alexius again. _Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives._" Another voice, his sister's lighter-pitched one, joined the mix once again. "It's Nani… _She should be part of this discussion if she wants. What's the harm?"_

Dorian didn't say anything, his eyes trained on Finn's face as he listened.

"Alexius," Finn whispered. "_The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"_

"This is where things get tricky," Dorian muttered. "Alexius is a careful negotiator. He'll fight for what he wants out of her."

"Nani again," Finn said. "_I shouldn't have to offer anything at all, Alexius. I'm not asking for mages for some unreasonable cause. This is the Breach we're talking about. Eventually it'll swallow up Tevinter, too, if we don't stop it. And besides…your cult wants me, don't they? And I'm not about to offer myself up as payment for the mages." _Finn lightly thumped his forehead against the door. "Bloody hell. Nani was never good at this whole knowing-when-to-hold-'em thing."

"No, no, it might be salvageable," Dorian encouraged, resting a hand against the door. "She may have the right of it, drawing him into the open."

Finn's eyes widened, and he looked up at Dorian.

"What?" Dorian asked. "What happened in there?"

"Felix," Finn whispered. "He just exposed himself. He told Alexius that Nani knows everything."

"_Kaffas," _Dorian cursed, his eyes tight.

Finn pressed his ear hard against the door.

"_Don't blame Felix," _Finn continued, translating Nani's words for Dorian. "_He's only concerned that you've gotten yourself involved in something terrible. Which you have."_ He listened to Alexius's words, his eyes narrowing into near slits. "_So speaks the thief. Do you think you can turn my son against me? _What thief? Dorian, what's he talking about?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Dorian answered with a worried look.

"_You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark – a gift you don't even understand – and think you're in control?" _Finn repeated from Alexius. "_You're nothing but a mistake." _He growled under his breath and gripped the door handle. "That's it. I'm – "

"Patience," Dorian insisted, drawing Finn's hand away from the door.

In his anger, Finn forgot to repeat the words so Dorian could hear them. But he could clearly hear Nani calmly ask what Alexius knew about the mark, and Alexius's response: _It was the Elder One's moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in His presence._

Finn's lips thinned. "Who's this Elder One?"

"_What?" _Dorian hissed.

Finn held up a hand. "Felix is talking… _Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like? _Dorian, someone's going to get hurt. Or, you know, worse. We need to go in there."

"I couldn't agree more," Dorian said, his voice lowered with anger; he opened the door with a bang and motioned for Finn to keep close as he strode into the main hall. Finn stayed a step behind Dorian and to the left, his eyes trained for any sudden attack by the Venatori guards lining the hall's dark stone walls. "Ah, Felix," Dorian said. "He sounds like the villainous cliché everyone expects us to be."

All eyes turned to them.

"Dorian," Alexius grunted as the two mages stepped closer. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down."

Dorian shrugged flippantly as the two of them reached Nani, Cassandra, and Bull. "Goodness, I can't possibly imagine why I would do such a thing."

Alexius's eyes narrowed. "The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

"Well roast my arse and call me a nug, that's _exactly _what this world needs," Finn snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who's this Elder Arsehole, eh? Is he the one who killed the Divine? A mage, I take it? Why'd he do it, then? Glory? Power? Shits and giggles?"

"Insolent elf," Alexius hissed. "Soon he will become a god!"

"We're all crazy," Finn said, throwing his hands in the air.

"None of this is possible, Alexius," Nanyehi said, moving ever so slightly into a fighting stance. Finn could read her like an open book, and she was about to resort to violence. "You can't just _become _a god. Gods are gods, and people are people. That's how it _is. _Mythal didn't just decide one day to invade the pantheon and become a god herself."

"That is where you're wrong." Alexius chuckled darkly, pacing halfway across the stone dais, and Felix regarded him with a concerned look. "_He_ will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas."

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona cried.

"You accomplished that yourself," Cassandra snapped from Nanyehi's right.

"_Alexius." _Dorian held his hands up in the universal signal for stopping this complete nonsense. "This is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen! Why would you support this?"

Finn opened his mouth to say something snarky, but was interrupted by Felix.

"Stop this, Father!" Felix insisted. "Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."

"No!" Alexius turned to Felix with a mournful look. "It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

"Save me?" Felix snapped back. "I'm going to die! You need to accept that!"

"Save him?" Finn asked.

"Felix has been ill for quite a while," Dorian whispered down to Finn. "A chronic thing, one we haven't been able to diagnose. But – "

"There _is _a way," Alexius was saying. "The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…"

Nani's hand twitched towards the bow at her back. "Undo the mistake at the Temple? You just referred to me as the mistake earlier. What, then? What's this nefarious plan of yours? Undo _me? _That's a fancy way to say you want me dead."

As if Finn would let that happen.

"You should never have existed!" Alexius pointed a gauntleted hand Nani's way. "Seize them! Seize them all! The Elder One demands this meddling elf's life!"

Finn threw an arm out in front of Nanyehi and drew deep into his mana reserves, expecting to have to unleash the elements on the Venatori, but he didn't have to – a collective gagging and slashing echoed through the hall as Inquisition agents appeared as if from nowhere, slitting the guards' throats. Their armored bodies fell to the floor with heavy metallic crashes, and the din was nearly deafening.

Alexius's weathered face filled with rage. He tore an amulet from off his neck and suspended it over his opened palm, charging it with iridescent green magic. The magic swelled, pulsed, a crackling filling Finn's ears.

"_No!" _Dorian yelled as the magic from the amulet exploded. He whipped his staff in an arc and countered the spell just barely; Finn grabbed Nani and shielded her eyes as rock and shrapnel sprayed around them, and the green magic slid hot and sparking over them all.

There was a tremendous _boom, _then a bizarre flipping sensation, as if they were spinning in space even though Finn knew his feet were still firmly planted on the floor. Nani's hair whipped into his face from the force of the wind current. He squinted his eyes shut.

Then a surge of magic rocked the world, tearing Finn from Nani and flinging him hard against a stone wall. He ricocheted against it and fell down into murky standing water.

_Water?..._

Resisting the urge to suck in a breath and fill his lungs with water, he pushed his hands against the floor and staggered to his feet, brownish water dripping from his hair and streaming in rivulets down his face. He just barely saw Nani and Dorian effortlessly take out two Venatori guards, who had just started to come into the cell.

Wait…cell?

Finn glanced around him, breathing hard. They were indeed no longer in Redcliffe Castle's main hall, but standing in a dank, shadowed cell that was flooded with a couple feet of water, massive stalagmites of glowing red lyrium jutting out of the dripping wet walls.

Huh. This hadn't been there before. Or _they _hadn't been _here _before.

"What the hell is this?" Nani asked, swirling the dirty water about with her foot. "Where are we?"

"Displacement," Dorian said, stroking his chin. "Interesting."

"Dorian, you're making no sense," Finn chided.

"You saw the spell as well as I did." Dorian smoothed his ebony hair back. "It's probably not what Alexius intended, though. It must have moved us…to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy? We were just in the castle hall, yes? Let's see… If we're still in the castle, it isn't… Oh! Of course! It's not simply where, it's _when! _Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

"That's it," Nani growled, her knuckles white where she gripped her bow. "Somebody dies."

"Not someone in this room, hopefully," Finn said, holding his hands up in surrender.

"But how far did we go forward?" Dorian said, pacing, the water dirtying his armored robes. He looked more excited and fascinated than anything else. "Or how far back? There are so many _possibilities_. We'll have to find out for sure, won't we? Let's look around. See where the spell took us. Then we can figure out how to get back… if we can."

"You helped him develop this magic, you said," Finn reminded him. "I take it you're the only one who might know how to reverse it?"

"Yes." Dorian stopped his pacing, turning to look at Finn and Nani. "I believe the magic he used to send us here was in the form of a rift, just like the ones all over Redcliffe. And we've got our very own master of rifts, do we not?" He pointed in Nani's direction. "I'm vaguely familiar with the theory of it, and I can give it a go. Provided we _one, _decipher _when _we are, and _two, _uncover that focus amulet."

Nani wrung out her wet hair over her shoulder, then pulled a leather strip from her wrist and tied her hair up in a low knot at the nape of her neck. "I'll trust your word, Dorian. But there's no telling how much trouble we'll encounter. No doubt wherever…or, whenever…we went to, it isn't particularly safe."

Dorian laughed. "No, very likely not. But don't you worry. I'm here. I'll protect you."

He'd said that to Nanyehi, hadn't he? Then why, Finn wondered, had he glanced right at _Finn _when he'd spoken the words?

"Wait, hold on." Finn shook his head vehemently. "I know you're perfectly capable, Dorian, but there's a flaw here. We're going to need you to reverse the spell, right? So if you die, we're toast. And we need the mark on Nani's hand to power a rift to send us back. So here's the thing – out of the three of us, _I'm _the only expendable one."

Dorian's smile faded. "I wouldn't say so."

"Finn, you're _not_ expendable," Nani protested.

"In this situation I am," Finn argued. He dragged a hand through his wet, tangled hair. "If we encounter any more Venatori along the way, I'm taking them on myself." Dorian and Nanyehi simultaneously opened their mouths, but Finn interrupted them. "_No. _If one of you falls in battle, we'll never fix this. I'm willing to do this, and I'm not taking no for an answer. Let's go. But you both are _staying behind me._"

"We'll guard your back," Nani tried as Finn approached the cell's iron door.

Finn shook his head, slipping through the opening.


	15. The Nature of Sacrifice

_Giant chapter ahoy._

_Thanks to the lovely Rosellyia, I will now be referring to our favorite two mages as Finnorian. It's a thing now. It's totally a thing._

_Before you folks come at me with pitchforks for the end of the chapter, read this – __**they'll all be ok. **__:) I promise!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Nature of Sacrifice<strong>

Finn led the way carefully through the castle prisons – not before grabbing a large, rusted metal key he saw sitting on a crate before he left the lower level cell they'd popped into, though. Could be useful. Stagnant water sloshed around his feet, impairing his movements; every so often more stale water would burst in a torrent from a hole in the ceiling, drenching his already soaked body. He squinted and soldiered on, not wanting to waste any more breaths in this place.

The red lyrium was everywhere, choking the walls like a crystalline cancer, its song humming faintly in Finn's ears. He felt the broiling heat pouring off each stalagmite of it, even without touching it.

"Be extra careful walking around those, Finn," Dorian cautioned him. "I don't know much about red lyrium, but if _normal _lyrium has the ability to explode at random… Well. I'm sure you understand my point."

"It's hard to avoid them," Finn pointed out, skirting around an extra large spike of lyrium. "What am I supposed to do if it does explode? Use you as a human shield?"

"And damage such a dashing face?" Dorian said.

Finn shook his head. "No. I guess I'm just going to die."

Dorian chuckled. "Well, we can't have that."

"Do you think Cassandra and Iron Bull are here?" Nani asked from behind Finn as he jogged up a set of slippery stairs, her footsteps padding lightly on the stones. "Would they still be alive? I can't even imagine…"

"All of those answers depend highly on _when _we are," Dorian reminded her.

Finn made his way through the twisting corridors of the ruined prison, eventually climbing another set of stairs and pushing through a wooden door that creaked horrendously on its hinges. He took a step through the opening, then pulled his leg back, motioning for Dorian and Nani to back up.

"See that?" he whispered, pointing past the door. Ahead of him was a large metal grate suspended over a long drop that probably spat out over castle docks, a steady stream of water pouring through the middle from the ceiling above. There were two doors across the grate, opposite each other, and in front of each was a Venatori guard. "Two guards, there and there." He pointed at them in turn. "I can take them just fine. If they start to come towards you, shut the door and brace it. I'll live."

"_I'll fight every battle for you_, he says, like the knight in shining armor," Dorian said dryly. "Where'd you pick up this martyr complex, Finn? Books? The martyr often suffers before he dies in some horrid fashion. You must know that."

"Finn – " Nani started.

Finn held up a hand. "_Come on. _I'm expendable, remember? I'm that nameless hooligan that charges out onto the battlefield and gets stabbed two pages in. Well…hopefully not _that. _Regardless, those guards are about to hear us and I'm leaving you two here. So long."

With that he yanked his staff off his back and strode out onto the grate, feeling the metal reverberate beneath his cloth-wrapped feet.

There was only two, at least. Finn used the element of surprise on the first guard, aiming his staff and sending an ice bolt through the man's throat. Damn good thing he'd practiced aiming so many times, or else he'd have lost his advantage. The second one, however, had already noticed him and lifted his sword, charging Finn with a war cry.

Finn dodged out of the way, his feet skidding on the grate; he looked over and realized he'd nearly reached the edge. He'd have to be more careful.

He lifted his staff to fire again, only able to shoot an ice shard and miss by only an inch before he was forced to leap out of the way of the man's swinging sword. So much for his aiming practice. It was a close call – Finn jumped back, trying to get a good distance away, but the man was advancing on him, the ruthless edge of his blade coming all too close to Finn's lightly armored tunic.

There was a whistling sound, and then an arrow sprouted through the man's throat; he stumbled, gagging, and another arrow pierced an inch away from the second. The man's body slumped to the grate, his sword clattering away.

Finn fixed Nani with a glare, and she shrugged, returning her bow to her back. "I said I'd guard your back," she said.

Rolling his eyes, Finn motioned for Dorian and Nani to join him on the grate. "You're a stubborn arse," he told his sister.

"I'm related to _you," _she fired back.

He shrugged. Couldn't really argue with that one.

Making a split second choice, he strode towards one of the doors, briefly looking over his shoulder at Dorian. "Do you happen to know a barrier spell?" he asked his fellow mage.

"Regrettably, no," Dorian said, his expression sobering. "I spent much of my time focusing on offensive spells. Fire and shock and the like – and, of course, the occasional dabbling in necromancy. But that's for another time. Don't you think I would have thrown a barrier over you if I knew a spell?"

_Be still, my ill-timed beating heart, _Finn thought wryly. "That's a bummer."

"_Dirth'ena enansal," _Nani breathed as Finn reached the door. "That's what you're going after, isn't it?"

"Too late now," Finn said, swinging the door open.

Had Dorian known a barrier spell, Finn might've been able to try the battlemage techniques as a last ditch effort. But, considering neither of them knew a proper spell for it, he'd have to manage with old fashioned dodging. It was lucky for him that Nani – and most of his clan members – were rogues; he'd picked up some of the moves from watching them hunt.

The door took them down a set of stairs, through a short corridor lined with cells, and down more stairs. Finn picked up a run as he went, listening for any suspicious noises.

He skidded to a stop at one door, hearing something odd.

It was Iron Bull's voice; he could tell that much. And from the sound of it, the Qunari was singing a gravelly drinking song. Finn gripped the door handle and pushed the door open, entering a room lined with cells. He spotted Bull in one, standing with his back to them.

Already Finn could tell something was wrong. Bull's massive form crackled all over with reddish pulses, and when the Qunari turned around, the whites of his eyes were glowing faintly with a sickening crimson essence.

"_What?" _Bull said, staring at them like he'd just witnessed a chicken sprout fangs and eat an entire village whole. "You're…not dead? You're supposed to be dead." He took a step forwards and gripped the cell bars in his hefty hands. "There was a burn on the ground and everything. Even a piece of that freaky white hair you have on your head."

Nani plucked the key from Finn's pocket and hurried to unlock the iron door.

"Well, we aren't dead, as you can plainly tell," Dorian explained. "Alexius sent us through time. How far ahead, we're not certain. This is our future."

"Your future." Bull laughed, shaking his head. Finn noticed his voice was distorted, his muscles visibly hard with tension. "Well, it's _my _present. And in my _past, _I definitely saw all three of you die. Burned. Roasted. Turned into ash flakes. You get my meaning."

"Here's the thing, Bull." Triumphant, Nani swung the barred cell door open and slipped the key into her pocket. "That's just what it _looked _like. Dorian countered Alexius's spell and it flung us here. Where – _when_ – this is, we still don't know. But we're clearly not dead."

Bull growled low in his throat. "So now dead and not-dead are up for debate? _Great. _Your dead but not-dead selves have come here just to annoy me with bad conversation, apparently." He jerked his head towards Finn. "You want to freeze me, pal? Freeze my head right off. Make it quick."

"This conversation has taken a turn for the moronic," Dorian said.

"Bull, do you have any idea when we are?" Finn asked, keeping his voice at a stable level – Iron Bull seemed ready to burst into a murderous rampage at any moment.

"It's today, and that's all I know," Bull snapped. "You think I've been counting the days here?"

"That's a no," Nani said. "Look…we're trying to reset things. If we can find Alexius's amulet and redo the spell, we can return to whenever this mess started. Or so Dorian says."

"Great. Trust the Vint," Iron Bull said. "Didn't I warn you about the pretty ones?"

"The _evil Vint_ is trying to escort you imbeciles back to the past and stop all this before it happens," Dorian snapped back. "Exciting, yes? We can do that. Just come with us. We're going to find Alexius, _hopefully, _and fight him for that focus amulet."

"And then draw dirty pictures on his forehead," Finn said. All three of them shot him varied looks, Dorian's being the most amused. "What? _Come on_. I think we deserve that much."

"Here's the thing." Bull glanced towards the door, as if expecting something to come in at any moment. Maybe something would. "It's not Alexius that's the big problem. It's his Elder One. He slaughtered the Empress of Orlais and invaded the south with a demon army. A _giant fucking demon army. _You ever fought a demon army? I don't recommend it."

"That calls for a hearty 'well, shit'," Finn said, shaking his head.

Nani hung her head just briefly, tracing her toe along the floor beneath her and stirring up the stagnant water. "We can prevent this," she said firmly – whether she was reminding all of them or just herself, Finn didn't know. "This doesn't have to happen." She raised her head. "I can't even imagine the pain you're in, Bull. But if we can make it all right…maybe you won't remember. We have to try. Are you in?"

"Oh, I'm in." Finally, a confident smile slipped across Bull's features. "I'm been wanting to kick some ass."

"And there is certainly plenty of arse," Finn reassured him. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>A year.<p>

Cassandra sat in the cell she'd been locked in, leaning against the one wall that didn't have red lyrium growing out of it. She hunched over, burying her face in her gloved hands.

She knew it had been a year since their failure in Redcliffe Castle's main hall. Cassandra didn't forget details like those. She could still vividly remember the flash of green, the burning, the smoking scar on the floor where Nanyehi, Finn, and Dorian had once been. She could remember ripping her sword out of its sheath, a war cry tearing from her throat, trying to avenge the lives lost…and the sheer horror of being overwhelmed.

The Herald hadn't deserved to die in such a gruesome fashion, her flesh incinerated so quickly that nothing was left of her within the blink of an eye. Cassandra still felt grief twist her heart when she thought about it.

She'd heard about the world events through the bars of her cell, listening to snippets of the guards' conversations. When they mentioned Empress Celene's death, her heart hardened into steel. When they talked of the demon army that flooded into the south like a tidal wave and decimated everything in its wake, she nearly wept.

But she didn't. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water," Cassandra whispered to herself, the words of the Chant her only solace in this place. She'd been reciting the Chant whenever she could, reminding herself that the Maker still existed. That Andraste would guide them all, even after the death of her young elven Herald.

"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter…"

She could feel the red lyrium sickness spreading through her blood like arsenic, the hot, stifling buzzing of the lyrium veins stinging her skin, making her eyes water. Being so close to it for so long should have killed her already, but she'd stayed strong, for Nanyehi's memory, for Finn's, even for Dorian's.

For Leliana, who Cassandra knew had been captured trying to infiltrate the castle, whose screams Cassandra could hear echoing through the stone corridors. That Leliana's skin was being studied for its Blight tolerance was the only thing Cassandra knew.

"The champions of the just…"

Her voice was raw, cracking. She wanted water so badly, _clean _water, not the polluted brine swimming at the bottom of her cell. But she would stay strong.

She opened her mouth, to speak more words of the Chant, but closed it when she thought she heard voices.

"I'm not sure what's worse – the giant red lyrium crystal, or the tacky dog carving in the wall underneath it," a man said. His voice sounded almost like Dorian's.

"Can we just agree they both suck?" That one sounded like Finn.

"You both have your heads screwed on backwards." Iron Bull?

She must've been hallucinating. It was the only explanation. And maybe that meant she was dying. As relieving as that sound, Cassandra couldn't give up just yet.

The prison room's door opened, and in strode the most vivid, believable manifestation Cassandra had ever witnessed – Finn, then Nanyehi, then Dorian, and finally Iron Bull, all armed to the teeth.

"You can't…" Cassandra started to say.

"There you are!" Nanyehi said, running to the door and fumbling with the key to unlock it. The rusty iron hinges groaned as it opened. The slender elf stood there, watching Cassandra, waiting for her to make a move and show she was alive.

How could this be possible?

"You're alive?" Cassandra said, struggling to her feet. "How – "

"Alexius's magic," Nanyehi explained. "It didn't burn us into the floor, it sent us forward in time. We're going to find Alexius and prevent what's happened. It'll be all right. I promise."

Cassandra staggered forward and grabbed Nanyehi by the arms, burying her face in the elf's shoulder. It wasn't a hug by any conventional sense – Cassandra had never been good at giving those – but it was as close to one as she knew how to do. Nanyehi hesitated, then hugged her tight, gently patting her back and reassuring her it would be over soon.

Hope. _Life. _Suddenly, all over again, Cassandra knew what those were.

* * *

><p>"Creators almighty, I think that was the last rift," Nanyehi said, rubbing her left palm with her thumb in harsh, pressing strokes.<p>

They stood outside the castle's main hall, a mess of demonic dust scattered across the floor and choking the air. Finn watched pain flash across his sister's features, and she tried to hide it but failed. The path to this point had been a doozy; there'd been demons and Venatori guards crawling all over the castle, not to mention the several rifts popping open in the courtyard as they tried to run through it. Finn couldn't even imagine the excruciating pain Nani must have been in from closing so many rifts. How many had been in the courtyard? Two? Three? He'd forgotten to count.

At least Cassandra and Bull had eventually found their stride, and both looked a little more invigorated, now that they'd been out of their cells. Finn knew they wouldn't last much longer, so sickened by red lyrium poisoning as they were. But hopefully, they could reverse this tragic future before anyone had to die.

He glanced over at Leliana, still unable to stop the blood from roaring through his ears and the clenching of his gut when he saw her.

They'd found her hanging from the wall by her manacled wrists, strangling a torturer to death with her legs. The woman's previously fair, lovely face had been mutilated into a shadow of its former beauty; Leliana looked like a ghoul, with sunken eye sockets and a face so scarred it appeared corpselike. She flatly refused to speak of what had happened to her, and Finn honestly couldn't blame her. But she _had _leant her arrows to their cause, firing so quickly and accurately that if one didn't look at her, they could almost imagine she'd never been harmed.

Dorian had tried to question her, in his curious manner, as they'd woven through the halls before they'd reached the courtyard. She'd snapped at him time and time again until he'd stopped, and their group had been largely silent after that.

_Weary, _Finn thought. _We're all so weary. But we can't rest until this is over._

Leliana's fate, gruesome as it was, might not have been the most horrid. They'd found Fiona in one of the cells, so parasitized by red lyrium that it was actually growing _out of her body, _and she'd barely been alive when she'd spoken to them. Even though both of them had seen their fair share of death and gore, Finn and Nani had both nearly gagged at the sight.

He had to stop thinking about it.

Now Dorian knelt at the corpse of a Venatori mage, deep in thought, his hand on his chin.

"There must be something we can use to open that door," Dorian said.

They'd been pondering the solution for a good half of an hour now. Blocking their way into the main hall was a heavy metal door that didn't budge no matter how much ice Finn had hurled its way – and he'd nearly drained his mana doing so. Bull had tried giving it a few good whacks as well, to no avail.

"Search again," Leliana said. "If there is anything, we will find it."

"Here." Nani sunk to her knees at the corpse's other side. "I've been rifling through corpse's belongings since I could walk. I'll try."

"You laugh, but it's true," Finn said, watching Nani slip her nimble hands into every pocket and fold and opening, searching for something that could signal that door to open.

Nani's face lit up, and she pulled out a small reddish shard pinched between her fingers.

"This might be of use," she said, standing. She jogged over to the door, traced her fingers over the handle for a moment, and slipped the shard into a crevice in a carved circle at the center of the door. "It slid right in. I think it was meant to go here. And look – the door's glowing just a little bit." A pause. "There's four more of these little slots."

"Reddish shards, you say?" Leliana asked, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a fistful of loot. She strode over to accompany Nani at the door. "I picked up some along the way. Let's see if it's enough."

Rogues, Finn thought. Their compulsive looting always came in handy at some point.

"Splendid," Dorian said, watching them deposit the shards in the door. "We're close to Alexius. I can feel it." When he glanced down at Finn, his eyes widened just a touch. "Sweet Maker, you look like you haven't slept in ten years."

"It's just the lighting," Finn tried. Truth be told, he _was _exhausted. Before they'd found Cassandra, he and Bull had focused on drawing all of the attention off Nani and Dorian; that meant flashier attacks and quicker dodges. And it had taken them quite a while to find Cassandra. Even after she'd joined them, Finn had still gone overboard trying to draw Venatori towards him, and it was a great risk without any barrier to protect him.

He ached all over. His bones strained with every step. But he wouldn't let it stop him.

"Don't be silly," Dorian scolded. "Not to mention you're soaking wet and streaked with dirt. If I didn't know you, I'd think you were a homeless shrew looking for a nice, meaty child to steal and eat for dinner."

"Don't you know? All elves do that," Finn said, watching Leliana slip the last shard in.

Dorian laughed bemusedly, shaking his head. "Ah, yes. The classic 'elven savage' cliché. Finn, the only thing savage about you is all those tangles in your hair."

"Scary," Finn said. "Watch your back. They could attack you."

"Or I'll attack _them_," Dorian said. "With a _comb."_

Whether Dorian was actually bothered by Finn's dirty hair or whether he was simply trying to lighten the mood, Finn didn't know; either way, he was grateful for the distraction.

"It worked!" Nani announced, taking a step back so the door could open; it made an odd, magical whirring noise and receded into the floor.

Finn peered inside. It looked similar to the main hall he'd been in only hours prior, except the people were gone – no Felix, no Venatori guards, no Inquisition agents. The only person there, standing across the hall from them with his back turned, staring into the roaring fires of a hearth, was Magister Alexius.

"_You." _Nani ripped her bow from her back and strode purposefully into the room, nocking an arrow. Finn could hear the pure murder in her voice. He followed after her, only vaguely aware of Leliana, Dorian, Cassandra, and Bull behind him. "Does it amuse you, how long we've stumbled around in your house of horrors, trying to find a way out? Have you had your fun?"

Finn had misjudged. There _was _another person in the room; someone sitting on the floor with his head hung in misery, someone with Felix's close-cropped dark hair and Felix's robes. And when Alexius turned around, the magister's face was contorted with pure sorrow.

"I knew you would appear again, Herald," Alexius said. His voice was flat, defeated. "Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you." His brows pulled together. "My…final failure."

Nani's snarl was positively feral. "Am I supposed to pity you?"

"Was it worth it, Alexius?" Dorian asked from Finn's side. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now." Alexius's shoulders slumped. The form on the floor that resembled Felix took a shuddering breath. "All we can do is wait for the end."

"Alexius, there doesn't _have _to be an end," Finn tried, taking a step forward. "Dorian can reverse this. We can make everything right again. We can make this horrible future not even exist."

"You cannot reason with him," Leliana hissed.

She was right; Alexius seemed too wracked by guilt to even hear what Finn was saying. "All that I fought for," he said, shaking his head. "All that I betrayed… And what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else." His voice strengthened just a touch. "The Elder One comes. For me. For you. For us all."

"Like I was saying – " Finn started.

"Enough," Leliana snapped. Her boots pounding on the stone, she reached Felix in a matter of seconds and hauled his immobile form to his feet, grabbing him in a chokehold and pressing a knife to his throat. Now that Finn could see Felix's face, he saw the ruin the illness had brought – unseeing eyes, ashen blue threading of veins popping out against his sallow, brittle skin. "Face what you've done, Alexius. To all of us. To _me."_

"Felix," Alexius choked, reaching for his son.

Dorian gasped next to Finn; it must've not registered for him that it was Felix on the floor, not until now. "That's _Felix? _Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you _done?"_

"At least we're not the only ones who look like shit," Iron Bull grumbled from the back.

Tactful.

"He would have died, Dorian! I saved him! The Elder One saved him!" Alexius's eyes, Finn noticed, were nearly watering, filled with a tortured fear for his son. "Please, don't hurt him. I'll do anything you ask."

"Leliana, let him go," Finn urged. "That has to be good enough for us. We'll make it so this didn't happen."

Nani, though still in fighting stance, nodded. "I agree. Let's end this. I'm done with this future. Let's go _home. _We want the amulet, and he'll give it to us."

It must have been a pure, venomous desire for revenge that made Leliana ignore them and instead tear her dagger across Felix's throat, a tired "I want the world back" falling from her lips.

"No – " Finn gasped; he heard Dorian suck in a breath through clenched teeth.

Alexius's face twisted. From shock, to horror, to sadness, to rage. Then he yelled and lifted his staff high in the air, swinging it down in an arc and ripping the air around them with an earth-shattering explosion.

Finn barely had time to squint before the blast hit. In a split second Dorian, who probably knew Alexius's magical abilities like the back of his own hand, grabbed onto Finn; the explosion sent them both rolling together across the stone floor, Finn holding onto Dorian with a white-knuckled grip. Finn's back skidded on the floor as they tumbled to a stop, and he lay there, struggling to catch a breath, as Dorian leaned up on one arm and looked over at Alexius.

"There you are. Didn't break any bones," Dorian said, getting quickly to his feet. "Or so I'm hoping. Otherwise that was rather in vain, wasn't it?"

"Can't feel any breaks." Finn scrambled to his own feet, eternally grateful. Elven bones snapped much easier than human bones; if he'd gone flying across the hall with his limbs flailing in every direction, he likely would have shattered most of his body.

Speaking of… He searched quickly for Nani, finding her climbing off the heap that was Iron Bull. He must have buffered her. He groaned and got to his feet, and Finn saw Cassandra and Leliana doing the same.

No deaths. Yet.

Alexius immediately erected a wide bluish barrier around himself, and one of Leliana's arrows glanced uselessly off it. There was a tremendous tearing sound, and Finn looked up, watching a shimmering green scar form in the air above; before he could yell that Alexius had opened up a rift – and not the good kind, strange as that was to say – and the scar widened further and spat several demons onto the floor.

"Focus on the rift!" Nani yelled.

Finn didn't need to be told twice. He sent a whirling ice storm into the group of demons before any of the melee fighters could reach them; once Bull and Cassandra got to them, it became much more difficult. Finn had to focus carefully on each of their positions, since one stray bolt from him could end one of their lives.

"Ha!" Bull shattered one of the frozen demons with a hefty swing. "Take that, you piece of shit!"

Cassandra shield-bashed another demon and slashed her sword through it, disintegrating it into greenish ash.

Finn took a step back, his heart leaping into his throat when his leg felt that oozing molasses sensation again, just like the time he'd stepped in the circle at the wall. Except this time, it slowed _everyone _down; he marveled at their slow motion attacks in the time it took for him to tear his leg away from the circle. Nani gave him a confused look but continued firing, arrow after arrow; Finn marveled how she never ran out of those.

"Last one!" Dorian called, and Finn heard a slight _boom. _"Do your thing, Nanyehi!"

Nani jumped up to the rift and lifted her hand, bracing herself and pulling with all her might; green light flooded into her scar and the rift popped, closing with a bright flash of light.

The barrier around Alexius fizzled out.

He deflected Nani's arrow with a swipe of magic, firing a firebolt her way; she leapt to the side, just barely avoiding its searing path through the hall. Cassandra and Bull overwhelmed him, pushing him back, strike after strike. Somehow the magister was able to resist most of these blows. Finn heard a pained yell rip from him, and then he exploded both of them away from him, and they tumbled across the floor.

Alexius lifted his hand, and green light shuddered in the air.

"No! Don't let him open another one!" Nani cried. "We'll be overwhelmed!"

Finn poured everything he could into his hands, into one crackling ball of shock, and sent it whirling the magister's way; it crashed into Alexius and crackled around him, and he screamed, his hand wavering where it held his staff. Dorian's fireball burned through the air around him, and Finn focused his hands, aiming another lightning ball.

Arrow after arrow, spell after spell, the magister was finally wearing down. _Rinse, lather, repeat, _Finn thought bitterly. Then Bull charged him, leaping up in the air and swinging down with everything he had.

There was a cracking noise, and then silence. The forming rift disintegrated.

Finn doubled over, leaning his hands on his thighs and gasping for breath. Nani wiped sweat off her forehead and dropped her bow on the floor.

"Creators be damned," Nani hissed, pressing a hand against her side and watching Leliana put her own bow away. She pointed viciously at where Alexius's body lay on the cold stone floor. Her voice was weak and cracking, her face haggard with fatigue. "Leliana, we could have all died!"

"We _are _dying," Leliana spat. "What's done is done."

Finn couldn't help but mourn Felix's fate, as he was sure Dorian was doing right now. He'd been innocent. He'd helped them all when he wasn't obligated to. He shouldn't have been butchered like an animal.

"He didn't deserve to die in such a manner," Dorian said from where he knelt at Alexius's body, shaking his head sadly in the direction of the dais, where Felix's corpse lay, his slit throat leaking crimson blood all over the stones. "But we can prevent this." He stood and held up a hand, Alexius's amulet dangling from his fingers. "The focus amulet, if you'll recall. I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I may be able to reopen the rift and send us back to the past."

"An hour?!" Leliana's petite body visibly tensed in outrage. "That's impossible! You must go now!"

The castle rumbled and quaked around them, bits of crumbled stone jarring loose from the ceiling and raining down like hail. Finn shielded his head, the piercing shrieks of demons nearly rendering him deaf. Somewhere outside, a dragon roared. He managed to hold himself upright during the violent shaking – as did the others, with varying degrees of effort. Cassandra grabbed Nanyehi's shoulder to steady herself.

"Shit," Finn said. "Shit, shit, _shit. _It's that demon army he raised. I'd bet anything on it."

"Or the Elder One," Leliana said. "If so…we're in his path."

"I'd say this isn't good, but I'm sure you know that," Bull said, looking in the direction of the noise. "If you can do that spell…you'll reverse this, right? Then do it. I'll hold the main door. Keep as many of those bastards from coming in as possible."

"I'm with you," Cassandra said, letting go of Nanyehi and going to Bull's side as the Qunari strode towards the door.

"You may need my arrows," Leliana said, just as the dragon's shrieking rumbled the castle walls a second time. Her eyes hardened. "I will join you outside. The three of us may buy some time."

"Are you _kidding?" _Nani gasped. "That's suicide! You can't! If we all stay in here, maybe we'll – "

"Look at us!" Leliana swiveled to face Nani. "We're already dead! The only way we live is if this day never comes!" She turned a venomous glare on Dorian. "Cast your spell, Tevinter. The moment we fall, you'll have only seconds before the demons storm you. I suggest you hurry."

"I'll work as fast as I can," Dorian promised, grabbing Nani's elbow and dragging her up to the stone dais. She obliged, holding out her left palm so he could have her mark available, but her wide, concerned eyes were trained on Bull, Cassandra, and Leliana as the three of them slipped out of the double doors and closed them behind them.

Finn gripped his staff's smooth wooden shaft in white-knuckled hands. If the three of them fell too soon, the demons would get through the door. And then…

"I'll take second line of defense," he announced, jogging for the middle of the hall. Once there, he planted his feet. "It'll give you more time."

"Finn, _no," _Nani protested. "Come up here with us. _Please."_

Dorian clicked his tongue. "Hold still."

"Nani…" Finn looked over his shoulder. "Dorian needs as much time as he can get."

"You came through the rift with us! You time-traveled!" Her voice was high-pitched, frantic. "If you die here, your life won't get a reset button, Finn! They get a second chance out there, because they weren't with us, because they didn't travel, but we're the ones actually stepping through the rift, and you won't because you'll be _dead!"_

Dorian's voice sounded oddly broken. "She's right. As far as your body is concerned… It won't reset you like it will for them."

"There are worse ways to die than giving your life to protect your sister!" Finn argued, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Martyr complex, indeed.

By the sounds of yelling and guttural, demonic laughter outside, the army had advanced to the door. Finn heard the sounds of clashing steel, heard the _twang _of Leliana's bow, heard Iron Bull's loud grunts with each swing. He spread his feet apart in a fighting stance, waiting for the worst.

Cassandra's scream came first. It was so full of agony that Finn's heart squeezed tight in his chest. Leliana's followed; her shriek was high-pitched, filled with burning and anguish, and Finn could no longer hear their weapons. They were down. He knew that much.

If Dorian couldn't complete the spell in time, they'd never bring Cassandra and Leliana back to life. Finn's gut twisted.

_Hang in there, Bull, _he prayed to whatever god might listen to him. _Hang in there!..._

Bull's grunts were coming louder and more often. Then the doors burst open, spraying Finn with shards of splintered wood, and a greenish terror demon dropped Bull's broken corpse on the floor with a loud _thump. _A horde of demons spilled into the room, all of their hungry eyes turning to Finn.

He knew he was all they had left now.

He pulled deep from his inner mana reserves and slammed his staff down, casting chain lightning into the mass of demons and watching the electricity crackle and whip through their forms. A few went down; not enough.

"That's for Bull!" he yelled, sending a bolt of ice ripping through the masses. It shredded through some, but more came, pouring through the door like ants on the trail of a dropped crumb. "This is for Cassandra!" He raised both hands out in front of him, sending an ice wind spiraling away from him. It froze a couple; the demons at the head were about to reach him. "And this is for Leliana!" With that he swiped his staff down in an arc, shooting ice shards out of the ground.

The shards took out that wave of demons, but a shade caught up to him within no time, raising its arms to strike; Finn knocked the butt of his staff into its flimsy body, dissolving it. A terror reached for him; he spun out of the way and fired an ice bolt through its head.

His world dissolved into an endless repeat of twisting away from an attack, firing, sucking in deep, ragged breaths to try and replenish his mana. It dwindled low after a few minutes of this, and he gritted his teeth, unleashing another bout of chain lightning.

The next time he tried to draw on his mana, he realized it was gone.

He was panting heavily now, each arc of his staff and move of his legs sending fresh pain through his body. His lungs ached. He tried again, lifting a palm, but a measly amount of lightning crackled around his hand.

His only regret was that he'd never learned a barrier spell, and thus couldn't attempt any _dirth'ena enansal _techniques on the tide of demons.

One of them swiped for him, dragging a claw across his neck; he hissed in pain as hot blood bubbled up from the cut and ran down his collarbone. No time to hesitate – he dodged another blow, swinging his staff like a two-handed sword.

But he'd dodged right into the waiting arms of a terror demon.

He didn't have time or strength to jump away; the demon ripped into him, plunging a talon through his abdomen.

Finn choked, his world coming to a standstill.

Everything spun, a miasmic slew of green and grey and demonic eyes and leathery hide. He could only register immense pain as the talon dragged out of him and he stumbled, wide-eyed, blood leaking out of his mouth.

"_Finn!" _he barely heard Nanyehi shriek. "_Finn! No!"_

He tried to smile, tried to reassure her it was going to be all right, but his body betrayed him and fell to the floor.

Groaning, he lifted his head, his warped vision sharpening just enough for him to know that the horde of demons was heading for Nani and Dorian. He could see them now, the faintest sliver of a green rift in between them, Nani's eyes wide and horrified, tears leaking down her cheeks.

He dragged his hand in front of him, struggling for a breath. His vision was whitening around the edges.

The demons were about to reach them.

A pained noise rattled up from his throat as he held out his palm, twisting it into a fist. Frost began to claw at the demons' feet, slowing them down.

_Let it be enough, _Finn prayed.

His eyes fluttered shut. Hot air washed over him.

_Let it be enough._

* * *

><p>Finn could still hear Nani screaming, but he couldn't open his eyes to see her.<p>

"You killed my brother, Alexius!" he heard her shriek. "_Bastard! _Fen'Harel take you! I'll tear you apart! _I'll kill you!"_

The hard stone floor was cold beneath him, slick and sticky with his own blood; he slumped his head to the floor, inhaling the smells of dust and rock.

"Hold – he's not dead!" he heard Dorian say. Then there was a pounding of boots, and warm hands gripped him, gently rolling him over. Two fingers pressed to the pulse point of his throat. "He lives, Nanyehi!"

Finn tried to open his mouth, but ended up moaning in pain through his clenched teeth; his brows screwed together.

"It's all right, Finn," Dorian was saying, the urgency in his voice betraying his attempted reassurances. One hand stroked the tangled hair away from Finn's forehead. The other, shortly after, pressed down on the wound in Finn's gut to try and stopper the bleeding, making him stifle a scream. "It's all right. I'm here. I've got you."

"Can he be saved?" Felix's voice; another thumping of boots.

"We're going to bloody well try," Dorian snarled. A moment later Finn felt two strong arms curve under him, lifting him.

"Finnie?" There was Nani's voice, and a dainty, shaking hand stroking his cheek. "I'm so sorry, I'm _so _– "

"N…no," Finn groaned. "Don't…"

"Let's go," Dorian said. Finn briefly felt the rocking motion of his walk. "Felix, grab his staff, would you? He adores that thing."

There was the sound of wood dragging against stone.

"I'm coming with you." Nani's voice. "Cassandra can handle the – "

"Nani, s-she…" Finn choked out. "Don't…conscript…"

_Don't conscript the mages. Don't take away their free will. They're innocent. We won't be any better than our enemies. Please…_

"Finn, don't try to talk," Dorian urged. "Felix, let's go. I know of an enchanter hiding out in Redcliffe who specializes in healing arts. If we can reach her in time, she might be able to save Finn's life. I know for a fact Alexius doesn't know a healing spell, nor would I count on him to use it. Nanyehi… I think Finn wants you to stay here and take care of the mages."

"I…" Nani started. A quick, breathy pause. "All right. _All right. _I'll take care of things on this end. But, please..._save him..."_

From the feel of it, Dorian carried Finn to the double doors and out of them, and all voices faded away.

He lost consciousness on the way back to Redcliffe Village. All he knew was the solid warmth of Dorian's arms under him, the rocking of his walk, the swell of his lungs as he breathed, the occasional mutter of "hold on, Finn. I've got you." Then there was the pungent smell of wet grass, the sounds of villagers talking, the creaking of wood and stomping of sheep's hooves.

"Up there, Dorian," came Felix's voice. "Are your arms getting tired?"

"Not enough," Dorian said.

A moment later Finn felt himself being lowered, then resting on his back on something cushioned – a cot?

"This is grave," a woman's voice muttered. Cooling hands were on his stomach, pulling away armor. "What in the world – "

"Please, don't ask me that," Dorian said.

Healing rushed through Finn like a tidal wave, and the feel of it intoxicated him, made his eyes roll back into his head; he opened his mouth, sucked in a shuddering breath, and passed out.


	16. Make Whole the Broken Man

_Purplepie – here's an update…where's the firstborn child you promised me? :P_

_So I gave the "Hinterlands Healer" a name because I felt like it. Yay. Also, I'm pretty certain Enchanter Ellendra knows healing magic…even if she didn't before, __**she does now.**_

_I am absolutely blown away by your kind comments. Seriously. As thanks: have some flustered early-stage Finnorian. (Because I am now the queen of stupidly fast updates... I should really slow down at some point. My poor hands. So much typing...I'm probably going to find some typos later and have a good solid cry about it. :P)_

* * *

><p><strong>Make Whole the Broken Man<strong>

Finn drifted in and out of delirium as he lay there in the care of the enchanter. His fever spiked and waned and spiked once more, his skin clammy one moment and burning from within the next. The pain in his gut was a dull, throbbing ache now, much improved from the excruciating agony of the stab wound. A few times he was vaguely aware of someone lifting him to a sitting position, and a slender, blonde elven woman dumping thick juice down his throat that tasted slightly like mint. Elfroot, he knew somehow.

The combination of the healer's hands and the elfroot juice left him high as a cloud for what felt like years but was probably only a day or so. Sometimes he heard voices around him; rarely was he coherent enough to recognize them.

Until one afternoon, when his fever finally broke.

He groaned and threw a hand over his forehead, opening his eyes. His hand, he noticed all too late, was sticky with sweat. He was in a small, one-room wooden hut, lying on a ragged bed against the wall. Golden sunlight dappled through the thatch in the roof. His rosewood staff was propped against the wall near his bed, wiped clean of blood and demonic ash. When he looked down at himself, he realized his upper half had been stripped of all armor, and his middle was now wrapped heavily in clean white gauze.

Finn jammed a hand down on the mattress and made himself sit up.

Aside from the residual fatigue, he actually felt pretty damn good. No ripping, tearing pain, no giant hole in his stomach. No screaming. Today felt like it would be a good day.

"I see you've returned to the land of the living," Dorian commented. Finn looked over to see Dorian sitting in a wooden chair with his elbows propped casually on the armrests. "Did you have fun chasing the rainbow unicorns up in the sky?"

"Hilarious," Finn said, shaking his head. When he let slip a soft laugh, it hurt his stomach a little. "Where are… Are we still in Redcliffe?"

Dorian nodded, standing. "We are. You've been tirelessly worked on by Enchanter Ellendra and Redcliffe's local herbalist for the past couple of days now. I've been on Finn-watch this afternoon, and I suppose I should alert the others that you've woken…" He took a step towards the door.

"Wait!" Finn held out a hand. "I need a minute to catch my breath before I get mobbed."

"Ah. Fair point." Dorian hesitated a moment, then dragged the wooden chair closer to the bed and sat down in it. He ran a hand through his pitch black hair, somehow not messing it up in the slightest; Finn wondered idly if he'd styled his hair with blood magic. "How's the pain? Better, yes?"

"Better." Finn rested his free hand over the thick gauze wrapped around his stomach. "Creators' tits. That was a lot of demons. Is everyone else all right?"

Dorian chuckled. "Sweet Maker, they're _fine, _and they certainly wouldn't want your incessant worrying_. _In fact, they're all waiting here in Redcliffe for you to recover. But enough of that. How are you feeling?"

"…pretty good?" Finn said.

The only thing that got out of Dorian was a raised brow. "Pretty good, you say. Either you're still drugged up on healing magic, or I've actually found one of those rare, elusive optimists."

Finn shrugged. "Might be both."

Something occurred to him, even though Dorian hadn't come out and said it – where would he go now? He'd helped the Inquisition secure the mages from the Venatori. His self-imposed duty was done. Very likely…he'd return home to Tevinter.

The thought didn't do much to ease the tension in Finn's belly, but he had to consider it a possibility – after all, Dorian _had _followed through on his promise. Now that their ordeal was over…Finn didn't know why the Tevinter mage would stay and help a foreign Inquisition.

"Will you be returning to Tevinter?" he asked.

"Already eager to get rid of me?" Dorian's mouth tweaked in a wry half-smile. "No, I think I'll stay. Rugged and uncivilized as it is, the South is beginning to grow on me. Besides – _someone _needs to stick around to prevent you from throwing yourself gleefully to your own doom."

Ah. Finn tried not to grin too enthusiastically at that.

"Not many men would do what you did, you know," Dorian continued. His grey eyes were intense. "You stood your ground in the face of dozens of demons. And don't think I missed that you were _still _trying to cast spells even with a gaping wound in you."

"Maybe I'm just abominably stupid," Finn tried, shrugging one shoulder.

Dorian broke into laughter. "I think a compelling case could be made for that. Regardless – you really _are_ something. You know that, don't you?"

_Whew, _was it getting hot in here? Finn pushed his tangled white hair back with a hand, trying to shove it off his forehead.

"You're something too," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

_Creators' arses, _he thought immediately, his face burning. _Brilliant. That was brilliant. I have the worst conversation skills possible. _Not to mention, considering that was probably his sorry attempt at flirting…well, maybe he should promise himself to never flirt again as long as he lived.

"Ha! Look at us, a couple of somethings," Dorian said with a smile. Then both men looked up with a start as the door creaked open.

An elven woman slipped inside, wearing a simple white and brown dress with a high collar, her golden blonde hair done up in a high knot at the back of her head. She had several bottles cradled in her arms, and she nudged the door shut with her hip, setting the bottles down on the chest by the door. She seemed to finally notice Finn when she looked up; she gave an excited yelp and hurried over to him, pressing her hand to his forehead.

"Your fever's broken," she said, smiling. "I wasn't sure you'd pull through, but you did. You were only minutes away from bleeding out and dying when Enchanter Ellendra got to you, I'd wager. What an awful wound." She took a step back. "You don't have a clue who I am, do you? I'm Mirrin. I study herbs and mix potions here in Redcliffe. And I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"It's nice to actually meet you, Mirrin," Finn greeted. "Thank you. Really."

"Of course, of course." She grabbed a bottle off the chest and handed it to him. "Here. Some elfroot juice – it'll speed up the healing. Your associates are outside…should I let them know you're awake?"

"No," Finn said, popping the cork off the bottle. "I'll tell them myself in a minute. I'm trying to catch my bearings."

"As you say." Mirrin gave a slight bow and left, shutting the door behind her.

Finn brought the bottle to his lips, tipping it up and downing the minty elfroot juice like he was in an ale-chugging contest.

"I should thank you for getting me here as quickly as you did," he told Dorian when he'd finished the last drops of the potion. It chilled his throat all the way down. "I'm sure I would've died if it hadn't been for you. You saved my life. I won't forget that."

"_You_ saved _all _of our lives, you modest twit," Dorian replied. His eyes briefly flickered down to Finn's bare chest, and Finn swallowed hard. "As much as I despise arbitrary non sequiturs, I must ask – what _are _those tattoos for? A fashion statement? A shameless declaration of masculinity? I know you Dalish have them on your faces, but you've got them all over you."

Yes, indeed; Finn's blue _vallaslin _wasn't just on his face. That must've been why Dorian looked down.

"If you must know," Finn said, "they're called _vallaslin. _It translates to blood-writing. It's to honor our gods."

"And which god do those ones honor?" Dorian asked.

_The god of being a flustered idiot, _Finn wanted to say; it would've been appropriate, on him at least. Instead he said, "June. Our craftmaster. He taught us to hunt and make weapons, and saved our people from the elements. I thought he was the coolest thing since buttered bread when I was little. Well… I guess I've always thought _all _the gods were the coolest thing. Maybe it's why I've spent so much time studying lore."

"One would think you'd worship the god of violent martyrdom, if there is one." Dorian's eyes traced the trailing path of blue _vallaslin _down Finn's left arm. "You mentioned being given them before. They're rather…striking."

Finn opened his mouth, probably to spit out something horrendously dumb that would embarrass him even more than the sleep-cuddling incident, when the door opened again.

This time it was a woman with a tall, proud bearing, dressed in blue enchanter's robes with her brown hair in a low knot; unlike Mirrin, she noticed Finn was awake immediately. "Ah, good," she said, reaching him and pressing two fingers to the throbbing pulse point under his jaw; he felt a small, soothing burst of healing drain into his bloodstream. "I think you're ready to be weaned off my magic. You'll need to take it easy for the next few days – I've knitted up the wound as best I can, but it's still going to be sensitive. If you move about too much, you might tear it." She gave a half smile. "Feels good to be able to think straight again, doesn't it? I've been told being flooded with healing magic is a great deal like a drunken stupor."

"I didn't take too much of your mana, did I?" Finn asked.

The woman – Ellendra, he assumed – didn't look like she was going to mince words with him. "You were dying. When you were brought here, I used everything I had." She brushed a wisp of brown hair behind her ear. "Truth be told, I'm exhausted, but a life saved is always worth that."

She was a bit like him, Finn mused quietly; he'd thought much of the same thing when he'd stood in front of the approaching horde of demons.

He absentmindedly ran his hand over the rough fabric of the bedspread beneath him. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"Just try not to come back in here with another stab wound, lad. That'll be enough." She thought for a moment, her forehead crinkling in concentration. "Then again, if in your travels you should come across – no. Never you mind." Silently she turned around and left the hut, the door thudding shut behind her.

He wondered what that was about.

Finn glanced briefly at Dorian, then looked around the hut, searching for something to wear. Sure, he still had his breeches on – thank goodness for that – but he didn't feel like tromping around the Hinterlands with his upper half exposed to the elements as it was. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, unsuccessful even when his eyes made several cursory sweeps around the room.

"Something disappointing you?" Dorian asked. "You've got quite the impressive glower on your face."

"I can't find my tunic," Finn said, frowning. "Do you happen to know where they put it?"

Dorian wordlessly reached down into a small wooden bin next to him and pulled out Finn's under-armor tunic, which someone had kindly washed clean of its gruesome bloodstains, and tossed it to him. "Here you are. Mirrin was keeping your things safe in here while you were…indisposed." He gave Finn a grin, a mischievous flash in his eyes. "I wonder, is it too late to hide your tunic and force you to walk about shirtless?"

Finn thought steam might start to pour out of his ears from all the pent up heat in his head. He cleared his throat, blinked, came up empty in the witty-retort department, and slipped the tunic back on. It smelled vaguely of lavender soap.

"I'm going to go with _yeah, it's too late," _he said after a moment, laughing to himself.

Dorian laughed in return, shaking his head in obvious amusement. _He's probably teasing me to get a reaction out of me, _Finn thought. Creators knew Finn had teased Nani for that very reason a thousand times; big brothers had certain obligations to fulfill.

"Well. Up you go." Dorian stood, holding out a hand to help Finn stand as well. "I believe your devoted fans are waiting to see you."

Finn smiled, taking his hand. "You mean my sister."

Dorian chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure you have more fans than that."

* * *

><p>Nanyehi sat cross-legged in the grass outside of Mirrin's hut, a chunk of dried ram meat cupped in her hands. She really should've tried to eat it, but she'd been so worried sick about Finn that the thought of food made her queasy.<p>

She'd seen him come close to death once before, when he'd been mauled by that bear a year ago. She'd prayed to the gods that she'd never have to see something so horrifying again. And yet here she was, the images of her older brother gored on a demon's talon permanently seared to the backs of her eyelids. Her nervousness had gotten so bad that Dorian had physically steered her out of the hut, because she'd kept fidgeting and trying to smooth Finn's hair and it was interrupting his rest.

Poor thing. His desire to protect everyone – especially her – verged on suicidal.

Cassandra sat down next to her, resting her hands on her knees. The warmaiden was silent for a while; when she spoke, her tone was sober.

"I received a message by bird from Leliana," Cassandra said. "She and the mages have safely reached Haven. Although I…_disagree _with leaving them as free allies, I respect your decision to do so."

It hadn't been Nanyehi's first choice, to do that. And yet Finn, so close to death, had still begged her not to conscript the mages. It would've broken her heart to stomp on her brother's last wishes like that. And maybe he was right – maybe the mages would fight harder for the Inquisition, because they wouldn't be forced to.

"Did I make the right decision?" Nani asked, watching the tree branches shift and shudder in the wind.

"You made a quick decision when you had to, and I believe you did well," Cassandra encouraged her. "Especially given the circumstances. I would have killed Alexius out of rage before anyone could stop me."

Nani smiled wryly. "I almost did." At that last moment, it had been Dorian's announcement of Finn's survival that had stopped her from ripping out the magister's throat. But the man was in Inquisition custody now, and Finn was still alive. Thank the gods for that.

Cassandra sighed. "I had an older brother, much like you. Anthony. And when he died, I… I did not let go of my desire for vengeance for years." Her brows pulled together. "I want you to know that I understand your pain. And I'm grateful as well that Finn is alive."

"Me too," Nani said. "I'm sorry about your brother. I didn't know."

If Cassandra had been about to speak, she was interrupted by the door opening; Nani looked up to see Finn step outside, holding a hand up to shield his glacial blue eyes from the sunlight.

"Finn!" Overcome with emotion at seeing him walking, Nani leapt up from her spot, dropping the dried meat on the ground in the process; she charged over to Finn and squeezed her arms around his neck, stopping only when he made a light coughing noise.

"Look at me," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and tolerating her pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Walking and everything."

"Are you all right?" she asked, stroking his hair back. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Do you need anything? Water?"

"Whoa, whoa." Finn held his hands up in surrender. "One at a time, Nani. I'm _fine."_

"Or so he claims," Dorian said, stepping out of the hut. "I'll bet anything that a few miles out from Redcliffe, he's going to keel over and faint and we'll have to drag him back to Haven by his feet."

"Such faith you have in me," Finn said wryly. "Where's Bull?"

"Taking out his anger on the Hinterlands wildlife," Cassandra answered. "He does not remember the ordeal any more than I do, but the mention of a demon horde and the sudden wound in your abdomen was enough to get him stomping out of here in a huff. He'll be back soon."

"Then we can go _home," _Nanyehi said.

More than anything, she wanted to return to Haven, stuff her brother in a locker, and keep him safe from anything else that ever wanted to hurt him. Not that he'd comply. Finn was infuriatingly tenacious in that regard.

"Home." Finn smiled. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

Dorian thumped Finn's shoulder. "You should really try _not _to die on the way back. Knowing you, though, that could be a challenge."

"Oh, stuff it," Finn said. "You just watch. I'm going to be _extra _alive once we reach Haven, just to prove you wrong."

Nani caught Dorian's glance, and he gave her a sly sort of smile.

Absolutely brilliant. If challenging Finn made him a little less reckless with his health, then Nani had Dorian to thank. Yet again. She smiled, folding her arms over her chest.

Maybe it wouldn't last very long, but for one moment…everything felt _perfect._


	17. So Burns the Memory

_Let's be realistic, guys - Finn's cute. He's going to get hit on._

_:P_

_Thank you for the support! Hope you enjoy. (This chapter really should've been renamed "Finn Gets Mobbed By Really Strange People"...)_

* * *

><p><strong>So Burns the Memory<strong>

When the party had finally arrived back at Haven, Finn had just managed to walk tiredly to the tavern, find a table at the back corner, lean against the wall, and order a tall flagon of mead before the interrogations began.

It started with Varric, because so many things _did_.

"Frosty!" Varric greeted, sauntering over to the table and plopping down on the bench opposite Finn. Finn scrubbed his eyes with his fists, as if that would alleviate the fatigue, and watched the dwarf flag the waitress down and order an ale. Then Varric rested one elbow on the table and stared Finn down. "So. Just so I get the details right when I write this chapter…did you really _singlehandedly _stand in front of a tidal wave of demons and kick complete ass? Even if you didn't, it's probably what's going in the book. So you're aware."

Finn took a slow, long pull of mead. Then he set the mug down with a resounding thud. "It wasn't just me. Cassandra, Leliana and Bull softened the blow." He chuckled. "Sorry if I've just ruined the book you're writing at my expense."

"Yeah…that detail's not going to make the cut." Varric's ale arrived, but he didn't drink it right away. "From now on, it was two hundred demons and you died a hero."

Finn raised one eyebrow. "Oh? Now I'm dead in your book?"

"Well, sure, but you'll come back miraculously to save the day in some future chapter," Varric said. "I've got it all planned." He surveyed the contents of his flagon. "This ale is probably not gross enough for that bet you and Sparkler have got going. I need to find better."

"That's Dorian's new name?" Finn said with a laugh.

"Can _you _think of a more appropriate one?" Varric challenged. "All fun and games aside… How're you holding up? Most people don't take a demon talon through the gut and live."

"I'm fine," Finn said, shrugging one shoulder. "Not a big deal. It was worth it."

Varric snapped his fingers. "_That's _going in the book."

Finn rested one elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand. "So is my dead self going to say that? Or is that going to be my stoic, debonair line when I come back from the dead a few chapters later?"

Varric laughed, _tsk_ing his tongue. "You know I can't reveal everything, Frosty. Trade secrets and all."

"…but I'm _in _the book."

"Doesn't matter."

Finn opened his mouth to say something, decided on taking a sip of mead instead, and nearly spat it out when someone cuffed the back of his head with their bare hand.

"_Demons, _Finnie?" Sera chided, sounding completely and utterly miffed. "Who hears an arseload of demons kicking down the door and says 'well, dunk a butt, I think I'll stand in their way and give 'em all frigging HUGS as they come in'?" She sank unceremoniously in the seat next to Varric and glowered at Finn from across the table. "You right crazy tit."

"Concerned?" Finn teased.

"I'll give you something to be concerned about," she said, pounding her fist against her palm. "Mages. I knew this shit would blow up. Never trust a mage. Twats."

"I'm sitting right here," Finn said. "Still. Haven't moved."

But Sera didn't appear to be convincible; she was shaking her head sporadically as she rose from the table, muttered "twats" again, and walked away.

"…so there's that," Finn said, drinking the remainder of his mead in one go. He turned the flagon around in his hands, absently watching the dingy tavern light glance off its scraped-up metal surface, then let it drop to the table. It wobbled a bit before settling upright. "It looks like I've officially been inducted into the Hall of Twats, Varric."

Varric snickered. "What an honor." He chugged his ale in one long gulp, then slammed the flagon down. "I'll leave you be. Just wanted to make sure you were all right. I think I'll check on your sister, actually. Do you know where she might be?"

"Nani likes to be high up when she's thinking," Finn said. "I'd, uh…check the rooftops. And trees. Check those."

"This is going to take forever," Varric said, shaking his head, getting up from his seat, and leaving the tavern.

Finn let the bar's ambient chatter, the minstrel's fingers plucking at the lute, and the pervasive smell of ale lull him into a quiet stupor. He crossed his arms on the table and rested his head in them, closing his eyes. It was nice to sit and rest for a minute, at least until his need to chatter like a hyperactive squirrel kicked in and he'd be forced to seek out someone patient and willing to listen.

He, of course, nearly choked on his own saliva when the table quaked and the bench beneath him lifted a couple inches off the floor and Iron Bull's gruff, baritone voice said "hey, Finn."

Raising his head with a startled sputter, Finn watched Iron Bull look down at the bench he was sitting on, directly where Varric had just been, and frown. "Damn, these are flimsy," the Qunari commented, standing back up with a huff. "You might need to weight down your side of the table with sandbags or something."

"Duly noted," Finn said, recovering his dignity. "How've you been?"

"That demon business in Redcliffe…what a mess," Bull said, leaning one foot on the bench instead of sitting on it. "I'm glad I don't remember any of it. How's that wound?"

"Healed up," Finn said proudly.

"You're awfully chipper for someone who's just been stabbed." Iron Bull peered down at Finn with his one good eye, which Finn noticed was a sort of grayish green color – an unexpectedly striking shade, for a man who more closely resembled a muscled druffalo than anyone Finn had ever seen. His gaze was strangely keen, too; he seemed to see more than he let on. "_A-ha. _You _like _having a martyr complex. You'd rather be injured than worrying about someone else. I've got you pegged."

"I…huh," Finn said. Maybe so; he hadn't thought about the reasoning behind his optimism. "That was rather astute of you."

"Ben-Hassrath training, remember?" Bull said.

Right. He _had _mentioned his station in the Ben-Hassrath on their way to Redcliffe. It didn't seem like it would end up being an issue; he'd keep them informed on Qunari affairs, at the very least, so it seemed a fair bargain.

"I can read anyone like they're speaking out loud," Bull informed him, leaning down a little – probably to get a better look at Finn. "And right now, you're silently telling me you haven't gotten your cork popped in way too long."

"I _what?" _Finn blurted out.

"You heard me." Bull looked triumphant. "That's not what you're saying out loud, but it's what you're _telling me. _I know how it is." He crossed his massive, muscled arms over his bare chest. "You're pretty cute. Not a redhead, but life isn't perfect. You ever want to ride the Bull, well…you know where to find me."

Finn's jaw nearly detached from his face and hit the floor. Bull just gave him a grin and a salute, leaving the tavern.

They really _did _keep interesting company, didn't they? Finn stared at the table's knotted surface, his brain working overtime to try and comprehend what had just happened. He briefly considered it, then wondered if his smaller build would even _survive _such an encounter. Getting stabbed by a demon was one thing…getting stabbed in a _very different manner_ by a giant Qunari was another thing entirely.

He dropped his forehead against the table's surface and sighed.

This time, he heard the approaching footsteps before they reached up.

"Chin up, Finn," Dorian said, giving him a heavy thump on the back. "The tavern food can't be so depressing that you've resigned yourself to eating the table instead."

"_Hmmm-mfff-nnnnhh," _Finn said into the table, not lifting his head.

"What was that? I don't speak 'gibberish'. Never got around to learning it."

"I wasn't eating the table," Finn said, finally lifting his head. He dragged his hands through his snowy hair multiple times to hopefully get it into a state of non-shittiness. "Of _course _I wasn't eating the table. Why did I feel the need to clarify that? Who actually eats tables? I'm rambling. Sorry. Shut me up."

"I was under the impression that 'shutting up' is not your preferred state of existence," Dorian said, raising an eyebrow. "Not that there's an issue with that."

Finn's brain immediately made their current situation unspeakably dirty in a two-second daydream he was _not _going to share out loud, and he clammed up for a few seconds, shaking his head. Fuck it – he was going to rescind his promise to himself and shamelessly flirt with Dorian, no matter the consequences.

"Oh, I don't know," Finn said, holding Dorian's gaze. "Sometimes I don't mind being…silenced."

Dorian quirked a half smile. "And in what fashion would you like to be silenced, then?"

Shit. He'd essentially called Finn's bluff. Finn pursed his lips, rolled his eyes around in thought, and eventually chickened out and said, "drop-kick me off a cliff."

"How would that silence you? I'd hear screaming all the way down. Not my idea of a peaceful afternoon." Dorian slid onto the bench next to Finn and leaned an arm on the table, watching him. "What in the world is wrong with you?"

"Uh…" Finn swallowed. "You're going to need to be more specific."

"Your eyes," Dorian said. "They're as big as those plates over there. You look like you've seen the ghost of your dead ancestor and it wasn't wearing any trousers."

"Oh. That." Finn shrugged, staring across the tavern at nothing in particular. May as well spill the beans; he really had nothing to lose here. "According to Varric, I died heroically while fighting the demons and am about to rise from the dead in a few chapters. Sera thinks I'm a twat. And I now have an all access invitation to –" _Wait. _What if Dorian found Finn's inclinations distasteful? "– to, uh, do nothing. Nothing happened. At all. Yeah. Good afternoon."

And with that, he dropped his forehead back on the table.

"Nothing," Dorian repeated. He didn't sound convinced – _obviously. _"Did the varnish on the table scramble your brain?"

"No, because I'm _not eating it," _Finn said, raising his head once more; he caught a lopsided grin on Dorian's face and realized the fellow mage was teasing him, yet again. "Actually, by extension, Sera also thinks _you're _a twat. All mages are, apparently. Welcome to the prestigious Hall of Twats."

"I can't say I'm not used to that," Dorian said. "Your countrymen aren't very well-versed in the idea of giving a warm welcome, dare I say. Your blacksmith spat at my feet a few minutes ago. And I've been getting the most curious stares. Like everyone is collectively daydreaming of locking me in a chest and sinking it to the bottom of the ocean. Rather unnerving."

"Yeah, well, they're arseholes." Finn shrugged. "Nani and I have been called knife-ears more times than I can count. It's better around here, at least. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about it." He chuckled. "I've actually made a bit of a game out of it. I try to rank their insults from most creative to most contrived. I think the best I've heard recently was _you scrawny little son of a deer-humping-shit. _Perfect ten right there. I'd say _dirty-halla-fucker _is a runner up."

"Good grief." Dorian laughed out loud. "Where was this?"

"Val Royeaux," Finn said. "Both of them."

"Why am I not surprised?" Dorian said.

A second later, Finn noticed a curious sight – Solas, pinching his nose shut and looking disgusted with life in general, stepped into the tavern. The fellow elven mage looked more out of place here than a hairy druffalo in Val Royeaux. He spotted Finn, his walk smooth-strided and rushed as he reached the table, and said, "ah, Finirial. There you are. May I have a moment?"

"You can have as many as you want, _lethallin." _Finn pressed a hand down on the table to help himself stand. "Something you needed?"

"Yes," Solas said, glancing out the door, "but I'd prefer if we spoke somewhere other than this."

"_Ma nuvenin," _Finn said, offering Dorian a parting smile before he followed Solas out of the tavern.

Solas led him up the snowy bank to a vacant spot outside one of the small wooden homes in Haven, stopping and turning to Finn. "Ah. I can breathe again." He regarded Finn with a calm look. "I'm told you could have prevented a nearly fatal injury at Redcliffe if you'd known a barrier spell and thus had been able to use _dirth'ena enansal. _As such, I offer you this – I will teach you the spell necessary to cast a barrier. Perhaps if you know it, it will make your impending battlemage training all the more easy."

"You would do that for me?" Finn found himself grinning. "So…what can I do for you in return?"

"All I ask is that you clear your mind and learn what I have to teach, _ma'falon," _Solas said. "You have been an unexpected friend, to many of us, and I do not wish to see you die."

Finn took a deep breath to show Solas he was doing just that – clearing his mind – and expelled it forcefully. "I'm ready to learn. Teach me what you know."

Solas smiled.

* * *

><p>Cullen's search for Nanyehi took him halfway around Haven before he spotted her sitting cross-legged against a tree trunk on the outskirts of the training grounds, her legs already half-covered in snow. Varric was just leaving her, it seemed; he looked up at Cullen as the two neared each other and said, "I got her down from there. You're welcome."<p>

"From the tree?" Cullen asked, even though he basically knew the answer to that.

"From the tree, Curly," Varric said, striding past him and away.

Cullen approached Nanyehi carefully, not wanting to startle her. Sometimes the young Dalish woman appeared to be like a nervous deer, unsure of her surroundings and stepping with the most careful of treads. And yet in battle, he knew she was more wildcat than deer – snarling, ferocious, her arrows flying faster than he'd ever seen anyone shoot.

"Have the mages settled in?" she asked him when he reached her, not looking up. She appeared to be deep in thought.

"Well enough," Cullen answered truthfully. "There's been some minor squabbles, but nothing we can't handle. Either way – what are you doing out here? Isn't it too cold for you?"

She shook her head, her aquamarine eyes wide and glazed, and simply said, "I watched my brother die."

Ah. So there was the reason for her melancholy look. Deciding to be spontaneous, Cullen sat down in the snow next to her, marveling at the delicate slenderness of her hands as she pushed a strand of dark red hair behind one ear.

"Or I thought I did," she said. "It didn't matter, in that moment. I had to stand there, useless, indisposed, as Finn faced down a horde of demons and took a talon through the gut. All to protect me. No one should ever have to see that. And I know he's probably laughing it off, making martyr jokes, and while I'm really happy he can recover so quickly… I can't get that damn image out of my head." She shook her head violently, as if to clear it. "For some reason, it hit me really hard on the way home, after the happiness of seeing him walking wore off. It's...hard. But I'm sorry. I'm burdening you."

"No. You're not." Cullen felt an urge to reach out and touch her, to comfort her in some manner, but he wasn't certain his touch would offer her any form of comfort. She was a tricky one, Nanyehi; she wasn't easy to get along with like Finn was. And yet Cullen found himself not minding that at all, because she made no excuses for who she was, and there was a strength in that. There was a strength in the flashing fire in her eyes, in her lithe body and quick hands. "Maker's breath, I can't even imagine what I would do if I'd seen such a thing. You have a right to be feeling this way."

"I suppose." Her thin shoulders slumped as she sighed.

"At least he's all right," Cullen said, searching for the right thing to say.

She smiled, then, and it was a beautiful smile; a sparkle touched the crystalline greenish blue of her eyes, and they brightened, her cheeks dimpling. "He is, isn't he? I can be thankful for that."

Cullen tried not to stare.

"Where would I be without him?" she continued. "I probably would've run away from the Inquisition as soon as I could. Maybe I wouldn't have helped at all." She bit down on her bottom lip for just a moment. "I'm not good at this. This _making friends _thing. This _saving the world _thing. But I want to be."

There was a touch of insecure desperation in her voice that Cullen knew well, because it had been him once. When he'd fumbled for the right words around Ellairia Surana back in their days in Kinloch Hold, when he'd glommed on to any figurehead he could find out of a longing to be led and be accepted. And here Nanyehi was, saying she wasn't sure if anyone could appreciate her for _her._

"It gets easier," he promised. "People already value you. That much I know."

Her smile this time was soft, and it was the gentlest he'd ever seen her face. She so often had worry-wrinkles between her eyebrows and hard lines around her eyes.

He knew the minds of the folks here at Haven, and he hadn't lied to her. Yes, she had the mark – that was one thing, and an important one at that. But she'd stood bravely in the face of hell multiple times and made the decisions no one else was willing to, and it took a special kind of strength to do that.

"I hope you're right," she eventually said.

He knew one other thing…that Maker be damned, everything be damned, Nanyehi Lavellan was growing on him.


	18. Strength of the Many

_Off we go to assault the Breach... ;)_

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><p><strong>Strength of the Many<strong>

A week had passed by the time Nani declared she was ready to close the Breach.

Frigid mountain air whipped through the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, blowing away the last of the early morning mist. Finn felt the chill seeping through his armored robes, stinging his eyes, tumbling his hair into what was surely utter disarray.

It was exhilarating in its own way, standing in the ruined temple hall beneath the fizzling, shifting green spire that was the Breach, one mage amongst a hundred strong. Finn gripped his rosewood staff tight, enjoying the crisp feel of the cold, the raw thrum of mana pulsing through his veins. He remained with the main body of the mages as they filed into an orderly fashion below the Breach, watching Nanyehi, Cassandra, and Solas step up a little closer to it.

Nani looked up at the Breach, but her back was to Finn and he couldn't see her face. He could read the tightness of her narrow shoulders, though.

"You are certain you're ready?" Finn heard Cassandra ask her. "We can't predict how this will affect you."

_Well, I'll be damned, _Finn thought. Cassandra actually looked _concerned. _They'd certainly come a long way from day one, hadn't they?

"Does it matter?" Nani answered. "Either way, this damn thing goes down."

Even from where he stood, Finn could tell that she'd said this through gritted teeth.

Solas held his staff high and approached the mages, his blue eyes intense. "Mages!" he called, getting their attention; any whispering and idle conversation stopped. "This will not be easy! The Herald will need all of your power! Focus on her; pour everything you have into her hand!"

Nani turned around, her face hardened in iron determination.

"This ends today!" she yelled, holding up her left hand, the scar pulsating with light. "No matter what comes, we walk down the mountain having saved our loved ones and ourselves!" She glanced at Finn as she spoke, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "Are you with me, mages?"

A collective battle cry rolled through the mages, and Finn joined in, caught up in the spirit of the moment.

Nani didn't waste any more time riling them up – the mages were already as ready to go as they'd ever be. She turned, took a couple of steps towards the Breach's long spur stretching almost to the ground, and raised her hand.

Finn closed his eyes.

It was easier to concentrate that way. He drew on the mana swirling inside him, as much a part of him as his own blood and breath; he mentally sought out the bright stream of energy coming from Nani's hand and found it, focusing on it. Deep breaths. _Concentrate. _Gritting his teeth, he pushed his magic _out, _away from his body, forcing it into the scar on Nani's palm.

He was barely aware of the fact that his nails were digging into his staff.

Deep breaths.

The air around them pulsated with magic, as electrically charged as the heart of a thunderstorm. Even Finn's advanced hearing was drowned out by the roaring wind, the hissing and sputtering of the Breach, the groaning of the mages around him in exhaustion.

He kept his eyes shut tight. His teeth ground together.

His magic was steadily being sucked out of his body, drawn towards Nani's mark like a moth to a bright flame. The loss of it sent his body into uncontrollable tremors, but he didn't stop. His sister needed him, and that was enough to keep him going.

Nanyehi was screaming. Or was that just the wind?

_Deep breaths._

The pull of Nani's mark was too much, and Finn fell to his knees, driving the butt of his staff into the ground beneath him. It felt as though his very blood was seeping out through his skin, funneling away from him, draining him of all his life.

Next to him, a mage grunted in pain.

An explosion and a herculean _boom_ shook the world, and Finn fell back on his rear, his eyes involuntarily snapping open. The breath flooded out of his lungs. He watched the Breach erupt in on itself, its light swelling, brightening, until it guttered out into nothingness, leaving behind an empty, swirling sea of clouds in the sky and an almost ethereal shimmer of green where the Breach's wicked reach had once been.

All around him, mages were struggling to stand. Finn stood on shaking legs, spotting his sister lying flat on her back, her arm stretched out beside her, the scar flickering faintly on her palm.

Cassandra reached her before Finn could. But Nani was already sitting up, her hand visibly trembling, and Cassandra rested a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up when Finn reached her, her eyes tight around the edges, panting heavily. But she still managed the slightest of smiles.

"You did it," he told her, his voice breathy and weak, as he held out a hand for her.

"_We _did it," she corrected, taking his hand.

Despite his exhaustion, Finn pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, lifting her high off the ground. She laughed tiredly and hugged him back, and they stood there for a minute or so, her feet dangling, her cheek pressed against his hair.

"Could it truly be over?" Cassandra wondered aloud, looking up at where the Breach had been with an amazed look on her face, her brown eyes wide.

Finn set Nani back on her feet, unsure if his shaking arms could hold her up any longer.

"It is sealed," Solas said, his expression soft. "It is over."

_It's over, _Finn thought, watching the sky in fascination. There'd be stray rifts scattered across Ferelden and Orlais to close, there'd be enemies to scuffle with, there'd be the matter of the Chantry deciding its next Divine – not to mention finding the one responsible for the first one's death.

It _wasn't_ over, he realized. While the killer was still at large, they could create another Breach any moment. They could build the demon army that Finn, Nani, and Dorian had seen in the future a year out. They could assassinate the Empress of Orlais.

The Breach, massive as it may have been, was just a small step.

And Finn was ready to take the next.

* * *

><p>It was early evening by the time the news of Nani's success at the Breach had really sunken in and Haven began to come alive. Soldiers and workers and villagers and mages danced outside with their arms linked, kicking up little tufts of snow. Laughter and whoops echoed all around. The sky was graying, darkening; Finn could just barely see the tiniest pinpricks of stars above him, when he looked up and squinted.<p>

He breathed out a soft huff of a breath, watching it fog up before him. Then he jogged down the hill, almost getting bowled over by a couple dancing and giggling past him. He spotted Dorian standing at the firepit near Haven's front gates, leaning against the retaining wall, alone; Finn made up his mind, approaching him.

"Hey!" He hopped down from the wall, landing a couple feet from Dorian and straightening up. "Not going to join in the festivities?"

"Decided to drop in?" Dorian asked, avoiding the question. The mage's grey eyes brightened a touch at the sight of Finn, and he smiled, looking down at him. "One would think you'd be gallivanting about in the snow with some doe-eyed woman clinging to you, batting her eyelashes and swooning into your arms. It seems like that sort of night."

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. "This hypothetical woman would be sorely disappointed," he said.

"I can't imagine why," Dorian said.

"One, I suck at dancing." Finn raised his hand in front of his face and dramatically lifted his index finger. "Two, _look at me. _This hypothetical woman would likely be bigger than I am, and the moment she swooned at me, she'd knock me over and crush me flat." And three, Finn probably wouldn't have been interested in her in the slightest, unless she had a sexy accent, a moustache, and looked exactly like Dorian, in which case… All right, that mental image was getting a little weird.

"Well, aren't you just a fount of self deprecation today?" Dorian teased. "I'm certain you're stronger than you let on."

"And how do you know this?" Finn challenged, raising his chin.

Dorian laughed, holding his gaze. "Must I rattle off your physical accomplishments thus far? Not to mention, my friend, that I have carried you quite a distance – and I'll have you know you're _heavy."_

"…so you're calling me fat."

"I'm saying you're all muscle, you nitwit," Dorian said, giving a half-amused, half-exasperated sigh and looking out at the people dancing around Haven, his eyes serene. "You certainly didn't feel like the bag of twigs you _claim _to be."

If Dorian used the words _I carried you _and _feel _any more often, Finn might've ended up being the one doing some serious swooning. It was a damn shame he'd been barely coherent the one and only time he'd been in Dorian's arms.

Life was a bit of a bitch.

"The first argument still stands," Finn tried. "I really _do _suck at dancing."

If Dorian had been about to say something, he never got the chance; Nanyehi charged up to Finn and threw herself at him, _giggling; _Finn caught her and held her in a tight hug for a moment or so.

"They like me," she told him excitedly, breaking away from him; she grabbed his hands and clasped them in both of hers, her palms sweaty and hot. "People _like me. _They're telling me _thank you, _and _Maker bless you, _and I don't even care that we don't believe in the Maker or anything – Finn, is this how you feel most of the time?"

Her unbridled enthusiasm at being given positive attention nearly made Finn laugh. "_Please, _Nani, that's nothing like I feel," he said. "I get less '_Maker bless you_'s and more _'Get out from under the table you deer-humper'." _Ah, that brought back memories of finding all those red scarves in Val Royeaux with Varric… "The last thing you want to turn into is the weird elf with the inappropriate humor. You saved them all. _You deserve this."_

"We saved them all," she corrected, yet again, squeezing his hands. She blinked, looking up at Dorian, who offered her a friendly smile. "Next time Finn tries to pass off credit, wring his neck."

"If you say so," Dorian said with a short bark of a laugh.

"_Hey," _Finn said.

"Josephine's calling me," Nanyehi said, looking past Finn up the hill. She dropped his hands, took a step back, and then stopped and stared at Finn with a strangely intense expression. "Finn… I love you. You know that, right?"

"I love you, too," Finn said; it was as easy for him to say as blinking and breathing were to do. "What brought this on?"

Nani snatched a windblown strand of dark red hair from off her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Because the world always balances out, doesn't it? Whenever we're really happy like this, something bad always happens to swing it back to the other side. And I wanted to make sure I'd said it. Just in case." With that, she left, him, running up the hill.

"Pessimist!" Finn called after her.

"Aren't your standards a little high?" Dorian reminded him. "Most people don't say '_well, fancy that, I'm feeling downright extraordinaire' _after a near fatal stabbing."

Finn snorted. "I did _not _use those words."

Dorian grinned widely. "I'm compensating for your uncouth speech patterns."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun of how the poor, innocent forest savage speaks," Finn said, his mouth tweaking in a dry half-smile. "I'll have you know I have plenty of useful skills other than making high-society talk, Mr. _Oooh Look At Me I Had A Heart Attack Over A Smidgeon of Dirt On My Boot."_

"That was _not _a simple smidgeon," Dorian said. "And you using the word _smidgeon _derails your poor-forest-savage plea."

"Do you enjoy crushing all my dreams of victimization?" Finn said, lightly punching Dorian's arm. He was tempted to leave his hand there and conspicuously squeeze Dorian's bicep, but he didn't really want to be buried six feet underground in a matter of seconds.

Dorian raised an eyebrow with a short breath of a laugh. "I'll tell you this much, Finn – of all my most recent mental fantasies, crushing your dreams is not one of them."

If Finn had been drinking anything, he'd have spat it out all over the snow.

"…would you care to elaborate?" he said instead, heat rushing through his body like an instantaneous fever.

Dorian opened his mouth to answer, then shut it just as quickly when a sound startled them both – the brassy, deep sound of a war horn echoing through the village, so loud it vibrated the ground beneath them. The Chantry bell tolled loudly in response, its clear notes ringing in the air. Both Finn and Dorian looked up, startled; Finn pushed away from the wall, watching Commander Cullen and Cassandra head swiftly to the locked front gate, pausing in front of it.

"There's an army coming our way, Commander!" a scout shouted, jumping down from the stack-stone wall surrounding Haven.

Finn could see it now – a barely noticeable winking and bobbing of lights heading in a slow-moving stream through the mountain pass. There must've been at least a thousand, if his eyes were any judge. He strained to see them, far away as they were, just barely catching the silvery glinting of their armor in the dying light of the sun.

"Under what banner?" Cullen shouted back, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Nani, already outfitted with her bow and a quiver full of arrows, joined Cassandra and Cullen and watched the mountain pass. Varric, Sera, and Bull emerged from the tavern; Solas jogged down the hill to join Finn and Dorian, watching the moving force the entire time. Finn saw First-Enchanter Vivienne standing with Josephine and Leliana up the hill, her armored robes pristine and stirring in the slight breeze; Blackwall came out from who-knew-where and moved to Cassandra's side, his expression hard.

"None, Commander!" the scout reported.

"Can you feel it?" Solas said softly to Finn. "The energy coming from them. It reaches far past them. It must be immensely powerful."

Finn concentrated, staring at the bobbing sea of lights until he could see nothing else. There was a brushing of something indeterminable against his senses, something _strong – _he could feel the mana in his blood protesting at the feel of it, boiling, a rushing current in his veins.

"Templars," he whispered, looking over at Dorian, then Solas; both nodded solemnly in silent agreement. Finn strode over to Cullen, raising his staff briefly in the air to catch everyone's attention. "They're Templars!"

Cassandra peered down at him, her gaze pure steel. "Are you _certain_?"

"I feel it too," Cullen said, staring past the wall at the approaching horde. "Maker's breath. They're certainly not marching here for peaceful reasons. And we aren't fortified enough to defend against them."

"We should get out there and meet them head-on," Nani said, taking a step for the gate and glancing behind her at Cullen and Cassandra. "If they reach Haven, all of these villagers will be caught in the crossfire."

Finn chewed on his tongue, thinking on it as Cullen, Nani, and Cassandra discussed the idea. If someone – say, an anonymous elven mage that knew some rogue techniques and could escape quickly – could get alone on the hill above them and rain down magic while they weren't expecting it…then said unnamed mage could do a great deal of damage and buy Haven some time to prepare.

He strode forward.

"Oh, _no _you don't," Dorian said. In one swift move he grabbed Finn around the middle, spun him, and threw him over his shoulder.

Finn hung over Dorian's shoulder, loose as a ragdoll with his arms and legs dangling, for a couple of surprised moments; then he shook his head violently to clear it, absolutely baffled that Dorian had intercepted him.

"…_how _did you…?_" _Finn said, fuming.

"Oh, you thought I wouldn't notice? Adorable," Dorian said, walking over to where the others stood and ignoring Finn's protests. "You had that joyously suicidal look in your eyes. And I recall saying someone had to prevent you from your reckless tendencies."

"Thanks, Dorian," Finn heard Nani say gratefully.

"I aim to please," Dorian said.

"_Dorian." _Finn thumped Dorian's back with his hands, but not hard – he didn't exactly want to hurt him. It appeared to have zero effect, naturally. "Put me down."

"Absolutely not," Dorian said. "You killing yourself will get us nowhere."

"…please?"

"No."

"_Dorian."_

"Yes, Finn?"

"I will feed you to a rift. Moustache first."

"Rather cruel, don't you think?"

"Maker's balls," Blackwall cut in exasperatedly. Sera giggled.

"Look, Frosty, no one's going to take your side on this one," Varric said from somewhere Finn couldn't see; he sounded like he was having a tough time holding back a chuckle. "Especially not after what happened in Redcliffe. I'd get comfortable there."

Finn sighed.

"We have a few minutes before they reach us," Cullen said. "We need to get the trebuchets aimed, and organize the mages and our forces into some sort of unified front. If someone could – "

"I'm on it," Nani said. "I'll take my group outside the wall and defend the trebuchets." A pause; she raised her voice. "Leliana, Madame Vivienne, could you organize the mages? Bull, get the Chargers. We'll need them. Meet us outside. Varric, you've got a loud voice – start getting villagers to safety. Solas, help Varric. Sera, Cassandra, Blackwall, Dorian, Finn, come with me?"

The wooden gates rattled, something slamming them from the other side; Finn pushed on Dorian's shoulders, trying to get him to turn so Finn could see what was going on.

"I can't come in unless you open!" a voice cried.

Boots scuffing the ground. Murmurs. Someone striding through the snow.

The gate creaked open.


	19. An Unquenchable Flame

_**In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame...**_

_Add Cole to broth. Mix in a cup of spontaneously-generated red templar behemoth. Sprinkle finnorian liberally over concoction. Stir. Let simmer. End on quasi-cliffhanger. ;)_

_You guys are absolutely the best! Thank you for your wonderful words._

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><p><strong>An Unquenchable Flame<strong>

At this point, Finn really wasn't in a prime position to see what was going on. He contemplated pinching Dorian until the fellow mage dropped him, but decided against it. Better to lure Dorian into a false sense of security, then make a run for the hill above the approaching force. Despite his shorter stature, Finn could outrun anyone. He was certain of that.

His ribs were already starting to ache from his position over Dorian's shoulder, but Dorian had such a good grip on him that even adjusting himself was a feat.

He heard Nani ask the obvious "who are you?" to whoever had cried for them to open the gates.

"I'm Cole," said a voice with a wavering, airy pitch – from the sound of it, he'd come inside. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You…probably already know."

"What's going on?" Cassandra asked. "Why are there Templars marching on Haven? Do you know?"

"You know they're Templars?" Cole asked, sounding surprised. "How could you see?"

Finn waved a hand high over his head, trying to crane his neck around to look at Cole. "Over here. I felt it. We mages did. I'd greet you properly, but this bastard decided I'm a sack of potatoes for the day. Hope you like the view of my legs."

"Let's not get snippy," Dorian said.

"What am I in, time-out?" Finn huffed. "I _am _a grown man, Dorian. I can make my own decisions."

"Yes, well, your decision a few moments ago was unequivocally dumb, and would have resulted in what would likely be an extraordinarily gruesome death," Dorian said. Finn could practically _hear _him rolling his eyes. "As such, I took it upon myself to save you from your own stupidity. And I mean that in the warmest way possible."

"Could you at _least _turn around so I can see what's going on?" Finn said.

"There's a fatal flaw in your grand plan, Finn. That means _I _can't see."

"Just swivel around for a second so I can get a quick glimpse. Or, you know, _drop me._"

"Drop 'im on his face so he quits yammering," Sera snapped from somewhere Finn couldn't see; well, at this point, he couldn't really see anyone, just a spectacularly useless view of Haven's buildings.

"Good grief," Dorian said. "What would we do without Finn's constant smart mouth? Where would we be? I can't imagine such a world."

Cole's voice came again; Finn was getting more and more curious about what he looked like. "Breaths short, ribs aching, eyes hot with blue fire. You think your hurting will spare others the hurting, if you take it all," he said. "But it _causes _their hurting. _Don't go. Don't die. I can't watch you bleed again."_

Finn froze.

Unless he'd just had an auditory hallucination, Finn had _somehow _just heard Cole reach into his thoughts and desires and yank them out into the open. Except that had only been half of Cole's statement. Who did the other portion, the last part, belong to?

"What are you…?" Nani said, sounding as stunned as Finn felt.

"Freaky," Sera said. "_Eeeugh."_

Struck silent, Dorian grabbed Finn around the middle and hefted him back to his feet. Finn landed just as silently, blinked, and spun around to face Cole.

He was greeted with the sight of a young man with flaxen hair hanging over his eyes, blue eyes as crisp and intense as a summer sky. The young man's skin was pale, barely flushed at the cheeks, and by the look of his armor – and his twin daggers – he was a rogue. But the most striking thing was his hat: a wide-brimmed, leather giant of a hat, one that would almost certainly render the young man's sneaking skills useless. He stared hard at Finn, his eyes nearly piercing through him.

"Can we get this back on track before the Templars stomp all over us?" Cullen said. "We have little time."

"That would be _great," _Blackwall grunted.

"Cole, what do the Templars want?" Nani asked. "Why are they here?"

Cole broke his gaze away from Finn, turning to Nani. "They come to kill you."

Finn's anger flared. An entire Templar horde marched on Haven just to wipe out his sister? Let them _try._

Cullen's eyes narrowed into near slits, and he drew his sword; Cole skittered away a step. "Why would they do this?" Cullen snapped. "Is this the Order's response to our alliance with the mages? Attacking blindly? This is preposterous. They can't just stroll in and kill the Herald."

"They want her," Cole said, looking up at Cullen. "They want her badly. The red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages."

Nani just lifted her head defiantly, yanking her dark hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck.

"How do you know all this?" Cassandra sounded suspicious.

"I hear them." In one jerky motion Cole swiveled to look at Cassandra. "Loud thoughts. Loud and angry. You took his mages. She took more than that." He pointed, to somewhere beyond Haven's walls where even Finn couldn't make out details. "There. The Elder One."

Alexius _had _mentioned Nani's interference at the Temple being a mistake, that the Elder One wanted her dead. Perhaps this had something to do with that? Or _everything _to do with it. Finn's nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. If he could just get up on the rise above the Templars…he could have reached it by now…

Cole eyed Finn again, his stare penetrative.

"You want to help," Cole said. "I know. But you can't hold them and sooth their pain when they're weeping over your dead body."

His words hit Finn like a slap in the face. Finn stood there, his jaw involuntarily clenching, his eyes wide. He looked down at the snow, looked back up –

– and Cole was gone.

* * *

><p>The wooden trebuchet towered above them where they stood outside the walls, its frame creaking and moaning as several Inquisition soldiers turned the crank and positioned it to fire on the approaching Templars. Finn estimated the force was only a couple of minutes away.<p>

No one had been able to correctly deduce who Cole was. Worse still, some of them didn't even remember him – Cullen, namely. No one passing by had recalled seeing him. And yet Finn didn't think he _could _forget, not with those words burned into his mind.

_Don't go. Don't die. I can't watch you bleed again._

Cole had certainly not been talking of his own feelings about Finn, considering they'd just met that moment and Cole probably didn't give half a shit if Finn died. And how had he done that? How had he ripped Finn's martyr complex from his brain and exposed it to the elements so effortlessly?

Questions, questions.

"See that?" Nani announced, pointing at the path up the valley. "There are some coming ahead of the main body."

"On your guard!" Cassandra warned.

Sera and Nani both nocked an arrow, holding their bows at the ready. Finn peered down the path, spotting a couple Templars treading their way, outfitted with heavy metal armor and glimmering tower shields.

Dorian unleashed a fiery explosion on the Templars; at the same time, Finn fired a bolt of shock their way. Their armor seemed to withstand it for a second, but then the hissing, snapping lightning and roaring fire nearly disintegrated them, and they fell to the snow, dull glimmers of singed metal against the fluffy white.

"Does it feel like we're cheating?" Finn asked Dorian. "It feels like we're cheating."

"Hardly." Dorian smirked. "It's not going to get easier from this point. Especially if one of them aims a spell purge our way."

Ah, yes – the dreaded spell purge. The bane of any mage's existence. Finn knew a Templar's spell purge could drain a mage's mana in a matter of seconds and render said mage completely useless. It took a great deal of training and focus, from what he understood, but once a Templar unleashed it…well, it wasn't something a mage ever wanted to experience. _Ever_.

The main body of the Templars had just started to filter up the path when the trebuchet fired.

The projectile hit the side of the mountain – where Finn might have been, had things gone his way – and brought a roaring avalanche of snow down on a portion of the horde. Even from where he stood Finn heard screaming and the clashing of metal.

But as it turned out, Dorian was right – those two initial Templars had not been any indication of what was to come.

The tide and tenor of the evening shifted from a scuffle to a full-blown battle as most of the surviving Templars began to arrive on the field. And yet even with their great numbers, Finn could still see an endless trail of bobbing lights along the mountain path, crossing over where the avalanche had buried their brethren. Finn tried not to dwell on it, focusing instead on the fighting.

It was chaos. The allied mages burst from within Haven and began unleashing a storm of every element possible on the Templars, many of which resisted and put up a solid fight. Arrows whistled through the air in every direction, some of them nearly hitting Finn as he dodged and fired. He could hear Cassandra's and Blackwall's yells, mixing with the cacophony of war. At some point Varric and Solas rejoined the mix, and soon Bull and his Chargers came – well, charging – down to the battlegrounds.

Finn ignored the chaos around him, aimed at a Templar, and fired an ice bolt; the bolt shredded through another unfortunate Templar who'd stepped into the way and hit its target, sinking cleanly into the front of the Templar's helm and bending the metal inward.

Finn blinked. Then he rushed over and peered down at his handiwork, grinning triumphantly.

"Dorian!" he yelled, ducking under an arrow's trajectory. He'd lost the fellow mage in the scuffle. "_Dorian!"_

It took only a moment, but Dorian skidded up to Finn, blasting fire through another Templar as he went. "What's the matter?" he shouted over the noises of battle. "That had better not be one of your organs lying in the snow, or I swear – "

"I got the ice bolt in his mouth!" Finn pointed down at the dead Templar, then twisted out of the way of a sword swing, jamming his staff into the attacker's chestplate and shoving him back with a grunt. "You didn't forget that bet we made, did you?"

"_Now, _Finn?" Dorian said, raining fire down on a couple of Templars running their way.

"It'll melt!" Finn said. The same Templar ran at him again; he hit the man with a shock ball and watched him writhe to the ground.

Dorian made an incredulous noise. "I suppose I'm buying, then!"

Then the fighting separated them again, and Finn lost sight of everyone familiar; the red flashes of fire, the purplish white crackles of lightning, and the electric blue frost whipped all around them in endless arcs of magic, making it nearly impossible to tell who was who.

A moment later, Nani charged past Finn; he barely caught her cry of "come on!" over the din. Shrugging, Finn caught up to her, running after her. She ran backwards for a second, assessing the situation, and then turned around and sprinted pell-mell up the hill. "The other trebuchet isn't firing!" she informed him breathlessly. "Soldiers might be dead! We need to take their places!"

She hadn't been wrong on that front. Upon reaching the second trebuchet up the hill, Finn realized quickly why it wasn't firing; a slew of bodies in Inquisition armor lay scattered around in the snow and dirt, and standing around them were several red Templars…and some towering, blighted monster of a creature, its body a mass of giant red lyrium chunks that melted the snow around it with its blistering heat.

Fuck a bucket. What the _hell _was that thing?

Nani dove to the side and fired an arrow, but it glanced harmlessly off the creature's crystalline form. Finn watched her change tactics and work on taking out the more human enemies. A minute later Dorian, Solas, Cassandra and Bull had joined the fight, and Finn focused his attention on the trebuchet.

It wasn't even aimed correctly anymore. If it fired on the mountain, it could cause another avalanche and wipe out more Templars. He ran to it and grasped the heavy wooden wheel in two hands, straining to turn it.

But he'd only managed to crank its position halfway to the desired spot before the red lyrium beast thundered down on him.

Finn abandoned the trebuchet out of necessity, diving out of the way of the creature's massive swinging arm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bull pick up the slack, cranking the trebuchet faster than Finn's smaller arms ever could.

Hold a moment…Solas hadn't been teaching him barrier techniques for nothing.

"Look at me, you fat, ugly bastard!" Finn shouted, firing an ice bolt against its rocky hide. The creature lumbered after him as he backed up. He whistled loudly. "Here, boy! Come get me! You want some elf-chow? We taste like venison! I think!"

If everything worked according to plan, he could draw the thing away from the others until they'd cleared the area of Templars.

But when did things go according to plan?

Finn threw a crude barrier around himself just as the creature lifted an arm and shot red lyrium shards his way. They sliced through the air, skimming his barrier; he'd have gotten several fashionable cutouts in him if he hadn't had the barrier up. He cupped his hands together, focusing, drawing on a frost attack…

…and staggered when the full force of a spell purge hit him in the side.

_Stupid! _He hadn't been expecting a Templar to catch him from that angle, but said Templar must've had a long enough time to charge the purge. Finn's magic fizzled out of his blood, his mana dying inside him.

The offending Templar raised his tower shield like a battering ram and charged, and Finn jumped forward, dodging.

Mistake.

The red behemoth's arm clubbed him, plowing into him with so much force that Finn heard an audible crack as one – or more – of his ribs snapped.

He _flew._

His body tumbled across the battlefield like a limp doll, limbs flying, snow tufting up around him. He careened sideways into a Templar's metal tower shield and ricocheted off it a couple feet, landing on the snowy ground with a _thud. _His head spun; his vision was white and disoriented around the edges.

Straining for breath, he shifted onto his back, just barely catching the Templar above him plunging his sword down, aiming for Finn's abdomen. Finn had just enough strength to roll out of the way and lift a hand, firing an ice bolt through the Templar's neck and shredding it. The enemy's body collapsed heavily on top of Finn, nearly crushing him flat.

Thank the creators the spell purge had worn off. Having a dead Templar lying on top of him was better than the alternative.

The mountain in the distance rumbled as the trebuchet finally fired, burying a the majority of the approaching forces in rubble and snow. From somewhere nearby, Nani let out a triumphant yell. Finn struggled to shove the armored corpse off him, wincing when the pain in his ribs made it hard to push.

"I lose sight of you for one second and you're suddenly rolling across the field like a Maker-damned snowball," Dorian snapped, running up to Finn; Finn watched him drag the armored body off him with a heavy expulsion of breath. "And now you're buried under a Templar. Could be worse, I suppose."

"Famous last words," Finn wheezed, standing…and immediately plunging to his knees in the snow with a hiss of pain as his left ankle exploded in pain, giving out beneath him.

Broken. Completely, absolutely broken. He was certain of it.

"Finn?" Dorian tried again to lift him to his feet. "What happened?"

Finn's ankle wasn't having that; his flimsy elven bones had twisted and shattered sometime during his mad tumble through the snow. He muffled a grunt of pain into his clenched fist and shook his head, sinking back to his knees.

"_Go," _Finn told Dorian, looking past him; the battlefield had been cleared of normal Templars, at least, and he caught sight of Bull's great-axe smashing into the behemoth's body. "There'll be more coming. I'll just sit here and shoot. I'll be like a fixed magic-trebuchet. A really small one. Plus my hair could blend in with the snow. _Camouflage. _Pretty nifty."

"You've gone mad," Dorian growled, hooking one of Finn's arms over his shoulders and curving his own arm around Finn's back, lifting him to his one good foot. Obviously, he wasn't in a mood to listen to Finn's urging to leave. "And if you protest me taking you back within the walls, I swear I will kill you."

"Counterproductive, don't you think?" Finn said, tweaking his mouth into as much of a grin as he could muster; he hopped on one foot, letting Dorian support much of his weight. He looked around for his staff in the snow, terrified that he'd lost it, but immediately spotted Nani pulling it out of a snowdrift and tucking its shaft under her arm.

Both of them froze when _something _roared overhead.

It was a guttural, rumbling roar, so powerful Finn thought his ears might bleed; he squinted and looked up, and Dorian did the same next to him.

A dragon, its scaly ebony hide visible even against the dark grey of the sky, swooped low over the battlefield and breathed a torrent of fire down on the trebuchet, incinerating it to sad little bits. The main piece of the trebuchet fell over with a creak, and pieces of wood sprayed upwards, scattered by the force of the dragon's wings.

"Oh, _that's _just what we needed to make this day wonderful," Dorian said.

"Look at it!" Bull yelled. He looked more in awe than anything else.

"Everyone to the gates!" Nani yelled. "_Now_!"

The dragon banked and flew over the village, a great black behemoth in the sky. It opened its mouth and spewed fire over the buildings; Finn could already smell burning wood, see bits of ash and smoke seeping into the air. Then its flight path took it out of sight for a moment; Finn spotted Nani and Cassandra standing down the hill, waiting for him to reach them. Nani was wringing her hands so hard Finn thought she might break her own bones.

"Shit," Finn said. "He _would_ have a fucking dragon."

"Your vocabulary knows no bounds," Dorian said, urging him forward a step. "I should buy you a thesaurus."

Finn shook his head. "I'm going to slow you down. Let go. Just watch – I can make it there on one leg." He pulled away from Dorian, hopped a few triumphant steps, and face-planted in the snow. "_Fuck_."

"That performance was soul-inspiring," Dorian said dryly.

Finn's voice was muffled by the snow. "Shoo."

"Yes. Marvelous plan, Finn. Do you have a checklist of creatures you're trying to sacrifice yourself to?" Dorian bent mid-stride, hooked his arms under Finn, and scooped him up. "I imagine it's halfway complete by now."

"Well now we'll _both _be sacrifices," Finn said, wincing when sharp pain jolted through his ribs. At any other point in his life he'd be overjoyed to be carried like this, but his broken ribs and the dragon overhead were rather ruining the moment. "Had to steal my thunder, didn't you?"

Dorian just rolled his eyes.


	20. Terms of Burial

_I think the general consensus here is that Finn is a complete turd. :P I had this written already, and realized this morning that this probably should've been tacked on to the ending of the previous chapter, but it's a bit too late for that. So I'm submitting it early instead as a separate chapter._

* * *

><p><strong>Terms of Burial<strong>

Nanyehi surveyed the situation in the Chantry, her innards twisting in a growing sense of dread.

They'd evacuated everyone possible from Haven, sequestering them in the Chantry and barring the wooden double doors. The building teemed with people – mages, soldiers, the occasional Templar recruits who hadn't defected and become the red variety, scared villagers huddling together in clumps, servants and workers with confusion on their faces. She could hear the dragon's roaring outside, hear each flap of its great black wings.

Of all the faces in there, the majority of them were turned to her.

She knew why. Only this morning they'd been given the news that _she _had saved the world and them and swallowed the Breach into the scar on her hand (not that it went that way, but whatever.) And now, faced with another catastrophe, they once again looked to her for guidance.

Her slim shoulders felt heavy with so much weight on them.

She thinned her lips, finding Finn sitting against one of the walls with his broken leg stretched out in front of him. Someone – Minaeve or Adan, possibly – had wrapped his swelling ankle tight, although nothing could be done for his ribs at the moment. He looked up with his usual smile when he saw her, but she couldn't smile back. Not this time.

"Finn," she said, reaching him, "I'm half-tempted to kill you."

"You're going to have to get in line," he said with a chuckle. "Dorian's already signed up for first dibs. Take it up with him."

"This isn't funny, Finn. Not this." Nani's heart had been hammering around in her chest for the past several minutes now, and her hands were slick with sweat. "You can't just taunt a giant, nearly indestructible monster and _not _expect to get smashed halfway across the battlefield. What were you thinking? You're lucky you only broke a couple bones!"

His brows pulled together. "If I hadn't been hit with that spell purge – "

"_Stop," _she begged him. "You do this. You always do this. You fight like a reckless idiot and you're going to get yourself killed!" And creators knew she couldn't bear the thought of losing her brother because of that.

_Someone _had to yell at him eventually for it – awful task as it was, it fell to her.

The commotion had started to draw attention. People looked her way, obviously shocked by her raised voice, but didn't move or come any closer, thank goodness. The attention made her nervous, but she'd had enough of watching her older brother come inches from death so many times, all because he didn't take care of himself on the battlefield. _Every _Dalish knew how to sneak, how to evade. Finn _chose_ not to.

"Direct any and all concerns to my secretary," Finn said, shrugging. He turned to Varric, who was a few feet away, wiping Bianca clean with a rag. "Varric. You want to be my secretary?"

"I'm writing your biography, pal," Varric said, snickering. "I can't do two jobs at once."

"Damn," Finn said.

Nani cleared her throat and sat down, lowering her voice. People began to resume their usual nervous chatter. "Why can't you just fight more carefully?" she asked.

Finn set his jaw stubbornly. "There's a _possibility_, Nani, that you barely take any injuries during battle because I take them all _for_ you."

"Well, stop doing that. I know how to fight."

"Yeah. You do. But you take one hard blow and you're gone. Why would I take that chance?"

"Stop protecting me," she hissed. "I don't take hits when I'm careful."

"You don't take hits when _I'm taking them," _he argued.

Her temper flared. She wanted him to see reason so badly that she nearly lost control of her words. "_Neither of us _need to get hurt, Finn! There's a reason warriors carry shields and wear heavy armor – they're _built _to withstand injury. Let them attract the attention."

"There's – " he started.

Nani's voice picked up the slightest of snarls. "_Stop. Protecting. Me."_

Finn's glacial blue eyes widened, and he thumped his head back against the wall, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He stared over at her for a quiet, awkward moment, then slowly, deliberately shook his head. "No…you can't ask me to do that. You're my _little sister_."

"Why?" Nani gritted her teeth together. "You don't think I can survive without you?"

"That's not – "

"I've had enough of this shit," Varric snapped, stepping between the two of them; Nani rose to her feet and backed up a step. "Stop it. Frosty's in a lot of pain, Herald. Go easy." He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed to near slits. "Hawke told me about her little brother once. Carver. He was always upset about her protecting him and taking the accolades, she said. You want to know what happened to him? He charged an ogre without being prepared and _died._"

"See?" Nani said. "Maybe Finn should stop charging monsters."

"Look, don't go beating up Frosty about wanting to protect you," Varric said exasperatedly. "I've seen enough death in my life to know shit actually happens. And Frosty, Hawke would have a lot to say about your suicidal fighting style. You're _going to get yourself killed. _Carver wasn't exactly a weakling, and that ogre still made a pulp out of him. I'm going to stop myself before I make some sappy speech about working together. But _enough with the yelling._" With that, he strode away, shaking his head the whole time.

Finn crossed his arms tight over his chest, then winced – those broken ribs must've been hurting him more than he let on.

"You're hurting the people who care about you, Finnie," Nani said. "If you won't listen to Cole or Dorian, then listen to me."

Maybe, just maybe, if she was harsh enough, she'd snap him out of his desire to take everyone's injuries. It'd be a difficult feat; Finn had been throwing himself into battle with reckless abandon since he could hold up his staff. But she'd try nevertheless.

"I…I _know_, Nani, I just…If you got hurt, I…" he started, then ducked his head, his ice-white hair falling forward and obscuring his expression from her. "I'm sorry."

His hair was getting a little longer, Nani thought affectionately, long enough to nearly brush his eyebrows if he didn't sweep it away from his forehead. She hadn't noticed this until now, really. Sure, it had been growing for quite some time, obviously, but she hadn't really taken in details about her brother – until the Inquisition, he'd been a constant fixture in her daily life, always the same. Always grinning, always making her laugh, always _Finn. _Now she really looked at him, and saw changes: worry lines on his forehead, scrapes on his arms from tumbling across the ground, the way he kept clenching his jaw.

She bit the inside of her cheek and stood, leaving him there.

Cullen and Cassandra were standing near the barred doors, talking in hushed voices; Nani strode over to them, rubbing her forehead and sighing. Near them, lying leaning against the wall and being looked over by Cole, was Chancellor Roderick. Nani could tell he'd been heavily wounded – thick, crimson blood was seeping through the front of his Chantry robes. He looked stabilized, for the moment, but she doubted he'd live much longer.

That could have been Finn. Fear squeezed her throat tight.

"Our position is not good, Lady Lavellan," Cullen said, his features drawn and tired. "That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us. We won't survive in here for long. It's cut a path for any Templars that survived the avalanches, and soon enough they'll break in here. We…" He briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have no chance."

"We have people in here who can fight," Nani reminded him. "If we make that door a choke point, it's defensible."

"From a _dragon?" _Cassandra said. "We don't have the strength to fight it."

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village and the people," Cole said, looking up from where he knelt at Chancellor Roderick's side. "He only wants her. The Herald. She's the one who makes him angry."

"He can't have her," Cullen snapped.

"No one else matters," Cole continued. "Just her. His thoughts are so loud. He'll crush anyone to get to her, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like – " Cullen cut himself off, sounding exasperated. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The – "

Nani held up a hand, palm forward, to stop him. She could feel the eyes of the people on her still, watching her, waiting for her to save them. So much pressure… "Wait a minute, Cullen. There _are _tactics. We'll lose hundreds of lives if I stay here in the Chantry. I can draw this Elder One away from here."

"The _last _thing we need is for you to start sounding like your brother," Cassandra said.

"That's insane," Cullen said.

"Hear me out." Nani gestured at the barred doors. "He doesn't have to catch anyone. I know what I'm doing. We've still got one functioning trebuchet, correct? Let's turn it. Bury Haven."

Cassandra's eyes widened.

"Doesn't the Chantry have underground cellars, prisons, something?" she said, finding it rather ironic that there might be prison cells in a place of worship. "Stuff people in there. I think this building is strong enough to withstand the snow."

"No." Cullen shook his head. "The Chantry is an old building. It won't hold. But I'm not discounting the trebuchets. If someone gets out there and buries Haven…at least we'll be deciding how we die. Many don't get that choice."

"If this building won't hold, then we'll think of another way," Nani said firmly. "We can't just throw our lives away."

"What other choice do we have?" Cullen argued.

"There…is a path." Chancellor Roderick's feeble, shaking voice broke through their conversation from where he lay. "You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the Summer Pilgrimage. As I have." He gave a rattling cough. "The people…can escape. Andraste…must have shown me so I could…tell you."

"And the Elder One and his forces will just follow us through the path until they get to me," Nani said softly, thinking a moment. "Cullen, I need to trust you to lead everyone out of here. I'm going to get out there and fire that trebuchet. The surviving troops need to be buried before they reach the Chantry."

Cullen silently took in what she'd said, obvious worry creeping onto his face. His voice carried a strange pitch to it when he said, "and what of your escape? You'll bring the mountain down on you."

"I'm small and I fit into crevices," Nani said, shrugging. "Either I outrun the avalanche, or I get out of its way. No one has to die. Not today."

"The chances of that are…" Cullen started.

"…slim," Cassandra finished for him.

"It _has _to be me out there," she insisted. "It makes sense. If the Elder One, whoever or whatever he is, senses I'm escaping Haven, he'll just keep marching Templars after us. I can draw his attention and keep him occupied."

"I'll go with you," Cassandra said.

Nani nodded, hesitantly. "I might need your aid, Cassandra. But I can't _ask_ this of anyone. It'll be dangerous."

"Our _lives _are dangerous," Cassandra said. "And I promised I would stand at your side. No matter what." She took a step back. "I will ask the others if any are willing to help." Then she left Nani and Cullen alone.

"Will you get the people to safety, Cullen?" she asked him.

Cullen looked down at her for a silent moment. She saw him swallow hard, then nod wordlessly, looking as if it pained him to do so.

Nani pulled her bow from her back, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. This wouldn't be easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. The area was likely swarming with those Templars who hadn't been buried by the avalanches, and building up the speed to outrun another one might be nothing short of a miracle. But she trusted herself.

"We'll meet you up the mountain," Nani said. She suddenly felt strangely calm about all this. It was in her hands, and she'd make sure it would end well. No one had to be a martyr here. "Take care of yourselves."

"And you. _Please,_" Cullen said, turning away.


	21. He Who Would Be God

_So I think Corypheus might actually be a Scooby-Doo villain... "And I would've gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for these meddling kids!"_

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><p><strong>He Who Would Be God<strong>

Nani paused just outside the Chantry, looking over her shoulder at Cassandra, Blackwall, and Sera, who'd agreed to follow her out here on her risky, seemingly suicide mission to bury Haven under a load of snow and rock.

"We can't draw all the attention to the trebuchet," she said. "They'll swarm us and take us down. Cassandra, Blackwall, I need you both to be as loud as possible and lure any Templars away from the trebuchet. Sera and I can sneak over there and get that crank turned. Once you think it's time, get into the Chantry. Don't worry about me."

"Are you certain?" Cassandra asked, tight worry lines around her eyes. "You will not be protected as well as you should be."

"We should be standing with you, mi'lady," Blackwall agreed. The older Warden's beard already had bits of blowing snow stuck in it, little white drops in a sea of black. He brushed a gauntleted hand through it, smoothing out the flakes of snow.

"We'll be fine," Nani insisted. "Sera and I can stay hidden on our way over there. And we'll be more effective if we aren't noticed."

"We'll just take 'em out with arrows!" Sera added, an oddly enthusiastic grin on her face. It seemed, for her, that the prospect of shooting things was enough to outweigh the possibility of death. "Those tits won't see us coming."

No, they wouldn't – a skilled rogue in stealth could do unparalleled amounts of damage. Nani had briefly considered enlisting a mage's aid, but her brother, the only mage she knew who could sneak nearly as well as her when he had the desire to, couldn't even walk. And if a Templar hit any of the mages with a spell purge, they'd be rendered useless. It had to be two rogues for such a delicate task, and Nani knew Sera was up to the challenge.

"We will draw them off you, then," Cassandra said. "Maker be with you."

"Creators guide you," Nani answered, stepping away.

"Blah, blah, _Creators _blah. What nonsense." Sera made a fart noise with her mouth and followed.

_I'm going to regret bringing Sera, aren't I? _Nani thought to herself, sneaking to one of the ruined wooden buildings and pressing her back flat against the wall. Sera followed suit. The girl was a fantastic archer, no doubt about that, but she seemed to despise all things Dalish; Nani, who _adored_ all things Dalish (much more so than Finn, even) didn't see her and Sera having any sort of closeness in their future.

But it didn't matter much. Nani wasn't in the Inquisition to get chummy.

The great black dragon circled overhead like a vulture searching for carrion, its wings stirring the loose snow around Haven even from way up in the sky where it was. Every so often it let loose a high, keening screech that made Nani's ears feel like they were about to rip open.

She waited for the sounds of Blackwall and Cassandra engaging in battle, waited for the dragon to turn its head away, and rushed for the cover of the next building.

And that was the manner in which she approached the wall surrounding Haven, and the last trebuchet just within – waiting, holding her breath, sprinting whenever there was a good opportunity, her ears constantly honed in on the sounds of Templars rushing towards Cassandra and Blackwall up the hill. The frigid wind bit into the exposed skin on her face and neck and hands, the snow felt gritty and cold beneath her feet. Whenever she got too close to a burning building, the fires licked at her, singeing her even from a few inches away. She ignored it, gritting her teeth and focusing her eyes on the trebuchet.

All she and Sera had to do was turn it, then fire it on the mountainside. Then they'd make a mad sprint for the Chantry and get through the doors, Creators willing. Nani wouldn't need anyone there to show her the path out; she could track the footprints of the people who went before her.

She waited, staring at the trebuchet, crouched in the snow against a low retaining wall. There were two Templars blocking her path to the trebuchet, both armed with wicked-looking steel swords and tower shields. Very likely these two had been instructed to guard the trebuchet and hadn't followed the noise to where Cassandra and Blackwall were.

Nani nodded at Sera, then gestured silently at the Templar on the right. Sera grinned, pulling an arrow from the quiver at her back and getting it ready to fire; Nani aimed her own arrow at the Templar on the left, steadying herself.

She took a deep breath and held it, making herself as perfectly still as possible – it was a trick she'd learned from one of the older hunters. The rising and falling of one's diaphragm could disrupt a good shot, she knew, and cause one's hands to waver. And if she missed this shot, she'd be exposed.

With a sharp _twang_ she released her arrow from the string. It cut cleanly into the left Templar's throat, piercing one of the only non-armored parts of his body. Sera fired not even a second later, her arrow _thwack_ing into the right Templar's forehead.

The two bodies fell to the ground, slowly, tipping over like felled trees, the snow somewhat muffling the metallic crashing of their armor and weapons.

"Bits up, face down," Sera said triumphantly. She looked over at Nani. "Hey – you're a pretty good shot, yourself."

"I have to be," Nani said, stretching out just a bit so she could peek back and forth and deduce if anyone was nearby.

Nothing passed between her and the trebuchet but the icy wind.

She dove for it, rolling back to her feet when she hit the ground. In the distance, she could still hear Cassandra and Blackwall fighting. Good – she didn't want them to lose their lives just to draw the focus off her and Sera.

Not wasting any time, she gripped the wooden crank in her freezing, nearly numb fingers and hauled it to the left. The trebuchet groaned and protested as it swiveled just a bit in the intended direction. Sera grabbed a couple of the other spokes on the crank and helped Nani turn it – the girl was surprisingly strong, for her size. The trebuchet shuddered and turned, inch by agonizing inch, and Nani's breaths were coming loud and fast as she pulled.

It shook to a stop, aimed up at the mountainside above, and Nani straightened her back, expelling a sharp breath.

"Be ready to run," she warned Sera. "The avalanche is going to pick up speed _fast_."

She reached a hand for it, took a deep breath.

But just as she was about to cut the trebuchet loose and fire on the mountainside, the black dragon roared, shaking the earth below as it swooped down towards them. _Curses, _they'd have to dodge out of the way and hide before they could fire the damn thing; Nani was just able to yell a "get out of the way!" at Sera before the dragon spat a torrent of fire on them.

Nani dodged, the flames clawing at her armor. She rolled back to her feet, made ready to run…

…and was immediately blown sideways by an exploding fireball.

The earth spun, whirled, throwing Nani onto her back and knocking the air out of her lungs. Her vision faded to psychedelic pinpricks of color for a moment, fizzling back into reality as she managed to suck in a strangled breath. She turned her head to the side, squinting, straining to see through the wall of flames.

Something was coming towards her.

No – someone. And not Sera; Nani couldn't see or hear her anywhere. The towering figure strode straight through the fire, coming into crisp view, and Nani's heart squeezed its way up into her throat.

It – _he – _was a monstrosity.

He must've been three times her height, if she was any judge. His abdomen was a rotted, gaped open mess of exposed ribs and sinew and the bloodied red of wet muscle; all over his body red lyrium shards jutted out like cancerous growths, especially on his head, where they'd completely parasitized one side of his scarred face. His arms were nearly skin and bone, shoulders covered by black, scaly pauldrons. But his eyes were the worst – piercing, intense, so full of hate that Nani found herself fixed to her spot in the snow.

She knew instantly that the Elder One had reached her at last.

_Get up, _she urged herself. _Get up! RUN!_

It was all she could do to struggle to her feet, forced to abandon her lost bow and arrows, wherever they'd been flung to. A massive rumbling behind her startled her; she looked over her shoulder to see the black dragon land and lope up behind her, the earth crumbling beneath it. It slowed to a halt and swung its scaly neck down, regarding her with wicked, feral eyes the color of pure blood. Its scalding breath steamed around her, reeking of smoke.

She looked around for an escape route, but found none. The dragon had cut her off.

"_Pretender," _the humanoid figure snarled, bringing Nani's attention back to him. His voice was deep, guttural, like a demon's laugh. "You toy with forces that are beyond your ken. _No more."_

The gears in her brain turned rapidly. Alexius had mentioned her being the mistake at the Temple, the one that foiled the Elder One's plans. Cole said he was coming for her. The scar on her left hand must've been his doing – and the conclave explosion as well.

He'd murdered the Divine. More than that, he'd put the entire world at risk. And _no one _put Nani's family and clan at risk.

"I didn't _want _to get sucked into the Fade and have a painful mark _seared into my skin," _Nani snapped back, spreading her legs just slightly in a fighting stance. "If you'll recall, I'm not the one who exploded a peace talk, either. You did this all _yourself_."

Where was Finn when she needed him? She wouldn't have minded a cheeky "Elder Bitch" comment to lighten the mood, remind her that she wasn't alone.

"Your memories fail you, _elf," _he sneered, glaring down at her like she was some putrid stain on the snow, begging to be wiped away. "You stumbled into something you did not understand and ruined it with your meddling. _You are a mistake."_

_No, you're a mistake, _Finn probably would've said. _Nothing that ugly should be allowed to exist. Have you _seen _a mirror? The reflection might kill you. _

Imagining her brother's possible words comforted her, just a bit.

"Why do this?" she said, her hands clenching into fists, nails biting into her palms. "Why murder hundreds of people just to tear the sky to shreds? The Breach is _gone. _Sealed. And I'll seal two hundred more if I have to. You can't just end the world without opposition."

"You understand _nothing." _He glided a step closer; the dragon's breath stirred Nani's hair and raised her hackles. "Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are – what I was. Know me, know what you have pretended to be, for I do not seek to _destroy _the world." He lifted a bony, clawed hand. "Exalt the Elder One. The _will _that is Corypheus."

It hit her hard, like a slap to the face – like he'd said, he hadn't meant to _destroy_ the world. If she was inferring correctly…he was insane enough to want to _own _it.

But, then, what was the purpose of the Breach? A scare tactic? She couldn't be quite sure.

"_You. Will. Kneel," _Corypheus ordered, raising his hand even further, as if he could telepathically compel her to drop to her knees and worship him.

As if she would.

The Dalish did not kneel to madmen. The Dalish did not break down and sink to their knees in front of certain doom_. _This was not the first time Nani had stared death in the face, either, and if she knew one thing, it was that a Dalish elf did not show fear in front of a predator. No matter what.

"I _will not_ bow," she spat, her lips pulling back into a snarl of sorts. The mark on her hand throbbed, flared green, sent shards of pain through her bloodstream – it hadn't been doing that for the past few days. She'd thought it had gotten better. Perhaps the close proximity to this Corypheus set it off again.

"Insolent _creature_." Corypheus lifted his other hand, and Nani spotted something clutched in it, but she couldn't quite deduce what it was. It appeared round from where she stood, circular grooves cut into its black, faintly shiny surface. "Your subservience does not matter to me. I am here for the _Anchor, _and the process of removing it begins _now."_

Before Nani could think about how ridiculously ominous that sounded, crackling red lines like lightning strikes appeared on the orb in Corypheus's hand, a cloud of pale red magic around it; Corypheus thrust his free hand forward, the same red magic jumping forth from his palm.

Nani's mark _exploded._

Maybe not literally, but it felt as much – the pain was all fire, all burning acid in her palm. Her entire left arm trembled, as if given a life of its own, the green of her mark flaring brightly.

The agony was so blinding, so _forceful, _that her teeth knocked together. Her left hand was nearly writhing in front of her, and she clamped down on her wrist with her right hand, trying to stop it. She felt the strong compulsion to sink to her knees and press her face into the snow and _scream, _but she refused to, instead bending and pressing her hand into her belly. She held fast to her last semblances of sanity, her legs shaking so violently in their struggle to keep her upright that she thought they might snap.

"It is your fault, _Herald," _Corypheus said, his voice dripping with venom. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose."

She could barely see him; white spots were flashing in front of her eyes. But she ground her teeth together and refused to break.

His voice came again, a low rumble over the white-hot pain. "I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched', what you _flail _at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."

_Hold on, _she begged herself. _Hold on… Creators have mercy, I can't keep going much longer…_

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work?" His words were pure acid. "The _gall."_

Her legs trembled and knocked around beneath her, but she'd promised herself she would not kneel before him, and _she would not._

All sorts of questions flashed through her mind like little pinpricks – the majority of them involving the word "why" – but she couldn't muster the strength to say them. Instead, she managed to spit out just three words:

"Fuck…your..work."

Finn would've been so proud of her.

That was the last coherent thought she had before Corypheus strode up to her, grasped her left wrist, and lifted her high in the air in front of him.

She was forced to dangle there, in the air, like a captured animal about to be flayed by a hunter. Her arm felt like it was about to rip out of its socket. But at least he'd stopped that horrendous spell, and aching as it was, at least her hand was beginning to recover. Even so, she almost would've preferred her previous state – hanging by one arm in front of Corypheus, her legs still and useless beneath her, was _not _the best outcome.

"Such bold words, with nothing behind them," Corypheus snarled, nearly in her face. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire _in_ _person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more." He hefted her higher, putting their eyes on the same level, and she resisted the urge to either shrink away or kick him in the face. "I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it was empty."_

So _that _was the reason for the Breach, for the disaster that had nearly plunged Thedas into destruction: Corypheus's crazed desire to creep physically back into the Beyond and turn himself into a god. The Breach hadn't been meant to pour demons into the world from the Beyond; it had been intended to get Corypheus _there._

Nani choked down a pained noise, trying her hardest to keep her voice from cracking. "Am I supposed to be scared by that? By you saying the _shemlen _god doesn't exist?"

She'd pushed him too far, with her reckless words. His eyes flashed, and he heaved his arm – and her – back, then threw her _hard _at the trebuchet.

Her body cracked into its wooden frame, her bones knocking together, her head jarring so hard that everything went black for a moment.

"The Anchor is permanent." Corypheus's voice permeated her dizziness, even as she strained to open her eyes and clear her head from where she lay at the foot of the trebuchet. "You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it; I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation – and _God – _it requires. As for you, little mortal… I will not suffer even an unknowing rival." He strode closer to where she lay, his dragon only feet behind him, steam puffing from the creature's nostrils. "_You will die."_

A choking noise bubbled up from Nani's throat as she planted her hands down and rose first to her hands and knees, then to her feet on unsteady legs.

"Maybe so," she forced out. Her teeth clenched. "But _not by your hand."_

She kicked the trebuchet's release, and it answered, flinging a heavy stone up onto the mountainside above them. And with a great shudder that rocked the earth beneath her, the avalanche began.


	22. Night Vigil

_What's that? Did I hear you guys asking for Finnorian? :)_

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><p><strong>Night Vigil<strong>

Finn really wanted to pace, but his busted ankle wouldn't allow him to.

One of the allied mages had known a crude healing spell, so she'd mended Finn's broken bones in his ankle and ribs as best she could, now that they were safely up the mountain. But it wasn't a perfect fix – he'd been given a stern warning to not put too much strain on his ankle unless he wanted to re-fracture it, which sadly included pacing.

So he sat against a tree trunk instead, separated from the group, staring at the swath of snow and rubble down the mountain where Haven had once been.

Chancellor Roderick's path had taken them up the mountain to this point, where the entire Inquisition had halted for the night with the intent of waiting for Nanyehi, Cassandra, Sera, and Blackwall to return. Only three of them had, just a little earlier that night, and none of them his little sister. "I couldn't find her," Cassandra had told them all sadly, her shoulders tight with tension, her skin scuffed and scraped. "Perhaps she performed a miracle, but…"

That was when Finn had left, stepping gingerly over to a patch of snow at the tree-line and sitting down by himself. People had thrown condolences and sympathies his way as he'd went; he'd ignored them, his palms clammy, his head spinning.

It had been an hour or so ago.

Now the sky was black as pine pitch, murky clouds obscuring the stars and moon. On nights like this, even the snow could barely be seen. But Finn could still see Haven's ruins down the mountain, and he kept his eyes fixed on it, remembering to blink every so often.

He was certain Nani hadn't died.

All logic pointed towards her death. The mountain had collapsed on Haven, burying it, very likely burying her alive. And yet he wouldn't believe it. He would have _felt _if she'd died, felt her soul slip into the Beyond. He was sure of it. And yet everyone was mourning her loss where the Inquisition camps were, hugging, consoling each other on the loss of their Herald, and to Finn it just felt wrong.

To assume her dead was to lose faith in her. And he wouldn't.

The night air made him shiver slightly, but he didn't mind. Anything to keep him awake and vigilant. A sound caught his attention; he heard Solas's lithe footfalls before the other mage reached him.

"Mourning might be premature, Finirial," Solas said gently, holding out his palm and using a bright, misty globe of pale blue magic as a light. "I do not believe Nanyehi died in the avalanche. For that matter, neither does Cole. He is convinced he heard her thoughts not long ago."

Finn blew out a sharp breath. "I honestly don't think she did, either."

"Good. You are in tune with the Fade, _da'len_." Solas peered down the mountain, his keen eyes narrowed slightly.

"_Da'len?" _Finn repeated. "I can't be that much younger than you are."

Solas chuckled. "You would be surprised."

They remained in silence for a moment, Finn focusing on keeping his breaths calm and collected.

"It's driving me insane that I can't go out and look for her," Finn admitted. "But I don't think she'd want me barreling down the mountain with a half-healed ankle. I'm sure she'd have a few choice words for me, actually."

"But someone should look," Solas said, agreeing with Finn's unspoken words. "I will go, _lethallin. _With any luck, I will be able to track her down. You must focus on your healing."

With that, not waiting for Finn's reply, Solas extinguished the light in his palm and slipped off into the darkness.

"_Ma serannas, ma'falon," _Finn whispered after him.

His breath puffed out in front of his face, fogging heavily as it misted up towards the night sky. And he continued to sit there for quite a while, even when he heard the noises dying out at camp close by, heard everyone start putting cookware away and dousing fires and crawling into tents. Finn chanced a look over and saw that some were still sitting by one last fire, warming their hands – Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. They didn't seem to be getting ready for sleep, either. Finn smiled softly and turned away once more, looking down the mountain.

_I know she's out there, _he thought. The alternative was too painful to consider.

"There you are," Dorian said; Finn had been too distracted to hear him approach. "Still trying to be one with the snow? I can't imagine you're comfortable here."

"Are you coming to tell me you're sorry for Nani's death?" Finn said, looking up at him. "Don't be. Because I don't think she's gone. I think she survived."

"There is a chance, yes. Your sister is a tough little thing." Dorian sat cross-legged next to Finn, looking immensely uncomfortable in the snow. "But, no. I came to ask you if you're all right."

Finn laughed. "Me? Don't worry about me."

"Sarcasm?" Dorian guessed, lifting an eyebrow.

"No." Finn shook his head. "I don't want any focus on me. Really. I'm just waiting for…" For what? For Nani to drag herself up the mountain? For Solas to return with news? Either could have been an answer. Or maybe Finn was just too restless to sleep. "…for something to happen."

"Ah." Dorian rested a warm hand on Finn's shoulder, the pressure of it heavy and solid. Finn could still smell the smoke on him from the fireballs he'd slung around only a few hours ago.

They sat wordlessly for a little while. Then Dorian gave Finn's shoulder a squeeze, startling him.

"I heard you and your sister fighting, in the Chantry," he mentioned.

"Yeah. That." Finn pursed his lips, his short laughter nothing more than a quick breath through his nose. "I deserved to be chewed out, I think. Now that I'm sitting here going out of my mind, waiting for Nani to come back…I'm realizing how it must've been for her, watching me throw myself around in battle. And let me tell you – I wouldn't wish this feeling on _anyone. _Except that Elder Arsehole. I hope he loses his grandmother and has a good solid cry."

"With a name like _The Elder One, _I'm certain his grandmother is already long dead," Dorian said. "But it wasn't just your sister you had worried."

"I know, I know." Finn rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I think Varric assumes he's _my _big brother."

Dorian snorted. "I wasn't speaking specifically of Varric."

"Solas?" Finn guessed. "He thinks he's my great-grandfather or something. I keep expecting him to come hobbling up to me with a cane and call me _sonny. _And to have all his teeth fall out. I wonder if he'd conjure up some magic Fade-teeth, or just talk with his gums. Is there a spell to replace teeth? Is that even a thing?"

"_That_ is a disturbing image," Dorian said. His hand skimmed down, palm flat, to rest between Finn's shoulder blades. "You have a wild imagination, Finn. But…no. I wasn't speaking of Solas, either."

"My bald apostate great-grandfather isn't worried about me?" Finn joked. When Dorian's hand remained on his back, as if a permanent fixture, Finn's heart flopped about like a dying fish. "That breaks my poor little heart."

"There is _no _hope of normal conversation with you, is there?" Dorian teased, shaking his head. "But I suppose it doesn't matter. Regardless – are you going to be more careful?"

Finn nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. I will. I…hadn't realized I was putting people through pain, when all I was trying to do was take it from them. But I'll try not to leap into the loving arms of any massive monsters in the future. I promise."

"I can't say I'm not relieved," Dorian admitted.

"It drives a big hole in my nefarious plans to sneak away from camp and go sprinting down the mountain like a madman to look for Nani," Finn said. "But such is life." He ducked his head, sucking in a breath. "_Creators. _If I hadn't gotten my ankle broken, I could be doing that right now."

"Sweet Maker, not this again," Dorian said, shaking his head. "And you were off to such a good start! If you form any more nefarious plans, I'm going to throw you down the mountain myself."

"Might be helpful," Finn said.

"No." Dorian paused a moment; when Finn didn't say anything, he curved his arm around Finn and shook him slightly, for emphasis. "You could at least _try _to refrain from any more suicide missions."

Finn had to sit for a moment and think, to try to remember how to talk without making stupid, nonsensical noises; he hadn't expected Dorian to actually wrap an arm around him. Was this something friends did up north in Tevinter? He didn't exactly want to _ask. _Either way, it warmed him up and made him feel cozy, so he stayed as still as possible.

"I'm only _kidding_. I will. I made a promise." Finn chuckled, looking up at the sky; the clouds shifted above him, roiled dark grey, occasionally exposing the faint twinkling of a star. "So, about my exquisitely fired ice bolt earlier…when are you going to buy me that ale?"

"Ale." Dorian made a disgusted noise. "I can't believe we made the winner's purse _ale. _Here's a thought – you haven't ever tried wine, have you? I think it's high time you do. Such a sad existence, being forced to drink this loathsome dwarven swill you have down south." He smiled and squeezed Finn again, giving him another gentle shake. "I'll find a bottle for you."

"_Aww_. Such a giver," Finn said, grinning over at him. "Do friends normally spoil each other in Tevinter?"

Dorian laughed. "No, no. I'm making an exception for you."

"So…you aren't just going to go dungeon-crawling and wipe the dust off some nasty bottle you find in a dead guy's cellar? Because I'd still drink it."

"Please tell me you're not also the type to pick up old cheese off the ground and eat it," Dorian said, wrinkling his nose.

"Not unless it was _clean _old cheese," Finn said. "Say, wrapped in cloth. Even I have standards."

"So I see." Dorian visibly shivered. "Aren't you freezing out here? It's getting late, and this weather is _miserable. _You should sleep."

"I should." Finn wouldn't argue that point; sleep would do his tired body and mending bones a great deal of good. "But I don't think I will. I wouldn't be able to sleep like this, anyway."

"Ah," Dorian said. "In that case, I'll keep you company."

Finn's glacial blue eyes widened a touch. "You…you don't have to do that. I'll be all right."

Goodness knew he could handle the cold, being an ice mage. With so much frost magic welling up from within his blood, coursing through his hands, he wouldn't have survived with a cold sensitivity. And as for his mental state, well… Finn would be an optimist until the end. If Solas came back alone – or, worse, with bad news – he might eventually believe his sister had died out there. Until then, though, he'd stubbornly believe she was tough enough to survive.

"Don't be silly." Dorian laughed lightly. "Of course I don't _have_ to."

No matter which way you sliced it…Finn could still take _something _positive from tonight. He could store away the memory of Dorian's arm around him for as long as he wanted.

"Thank you," Finn said sincerely. "I mean it. It's good to have some company right now."

Dorian just smiled.

"Sparkler," Varric called from several paces away, at the borders of camp; Dorian craned his head around to look and dropped the arm that had been around Finn. Apparently the dwarf hadn't fully retired to his tent. "How's Frosty holding up? Is he all right?"

"I can speak for myself, Varric," Finn said, rather missing the warmth of Dorian's arm. "It's all right. Don't worry about me."

"Now, now, don't be like that." Varric strode closer, lifting his feet high with each step so they'd clear the heavy snowdrifts. "I thought I'd check on you before I got some shut-eye. How're you holding up?"

"She's not dead," Finn insisted. Maybe if he said it enough times, it would ensure its truth.

"Could be true," Varric said. "If it helps any... I've seen Hawke survive worse. But that doesn't mean we can't worry about it, Frosty." Varric briefly thumped Finn on the shoulder, then turned around to return to camp. He paused, looking back. "We're here for you, all right?"

Finn smiled gently as Varric left. "I know."

He peered back at camp, silently thinking for a moment; Dorian didn't press him to speak. Finn suddenly thought about all those people lying in tents, staring at the ceilings, sobbing over their loved ones who they _had _seen die back at Haven. In that regard, Finn was fortunate - he had no proof of Nani's death. But many of these people had been forced to leave behind the bodies of their husbands, their wives, siblings, children, friends... Sadness pricked at Finn, tightening his throat.

He opened his palm and summoned a soft ball of floating light. It was a vivid icy blue, much like his eyes, the way a mage's light often reflected the elements coursing through their blood.

"_Hahren na melana sahlin," _he said softly, looking up at the stars. "_Emma ir abelas."_

"Elvish?" Dorian guessed.

Finn nodded. "It's, uh... They're lyrics to a song. Since my singing voice sounds like someone choking an ox, I thought I'd just speak it." He cleared his throat. "To offer something back to those who died at Haven. I can do this another time, though, if it bothers you."

"Goodness, no." Dorian chuckled. "I'm enjoying listening to it. The words roll off your tongue rather nicely."

Finn's face flushed a little; he reminded himself to keep going. When he looked sideways he saw Dorian summon a similar ball of light, except _his _was a brilliant red.

"_Souver'inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenera na revas," _Finn continued. "_Vir sulahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin." _Pausing, he lifted his hand. "_Vir lath sa'vunin."_

With a twitching of his fingers, he released the ball of magic into the air, the light shimmering like a cut crystal, twining upwards from his palm. Dorian lifted his own hand, and Finn watched the red light dance around the blue, until both of them dissolved into the night sky, their light and Finn's words fading into the Beyond.

"They looked lovely together, for just that moment," Dorian mentioned.

"Yeah." Finn looked down at the snow, breathing out a soft sigh. "They really did."


	23. Cry for the Moon

_Naturally, I stole this chapter title from an Epica song._

_You guys continue to flabbergast me with your support. (I had to find **some **use for such a wondrous word...flabbergast...it's the best.) Thank you all for your kind words and encouragements!_

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><p><strong>Cry for the Moon<strong>

Nanyehi awoke to find herself half-buried by snow.

She had vague, shadowed memories of escaping the avalanche, of hauling herself partially up the mountain. But the pain had been too great, and she must have lost consciousness and collapsed in the snow. It bothered her greatly that she could barely recall this. Now she lay on her back, her arms spread-eagled beside her, her lower half completely submerged in a cold blanket of white. Little specks of snow fell all around her, dusting her face, and loose tendrils of hair clung wet to her cheeks and neck.

The sky was dark above her, dark and unforgiving, and so she relied on her elven eyes to see what others couldn't. Tall pines swayed in a chilled mountain wind all around her, and when she breathed deeply, she could smell their woodsy scent.

But breathing hurt. She groaned, pressing a hand to her side and feeling the uneven bumps of broken ribs.

When she sat up, her head spinning, pain lanced up from her left hip. She nearly cried out at the ferocity of it but stopped herself in time. The bones didn't _feel _right; every instinct told her she'd dislocated that joint.

She took a shallow, shuddering breath. Then she braced herself and stood, her legs quaking beneath her.

With her teeth ground together, she took a step.

The cold bit into her armor, gnawing at her skin, making her teeth chatter no matter how hard she tried to press them together. Her injured hip barely supported the weight, but she took a second step, then a third, then a fourth, more and more and more, gaining as much forward momentum as she could as she made her shaky way up the mountain.

It was obvious, even in the darkness, where the Inquisition had come through. The snow beneath her was all churned up by brontos' feet and horses' hooves and people's boots. The wind coming down the mountain carried the slightest of smoky scents—campfires, no doubt. She couldn't hear much, but she knew at least she headed in the right direction.

She spread her arms out as she walked, keeping her balance when her legs would not. With every minute that passed the wind began to pick up, howling in her ears, buffeting her thin body with its cold force. Nani shivered and kept going, trying to ignore the pain in every step.

With the wind came sweeping flurries of snow, swirling around her, obscuring even her superior vision. Nani squinted, focusing on what she knew to be the top of the mountain, and placed one foot in front of the other, soldiering upwards.

Her lungs burned with the effort. Her throat was tight, her mouth parched.

Somewhere off in the distance, a wolf howled. Nani didn't even pause to try and pinpoint the animal's location—if she stopped moving, she was afraid she'd never be able to _start _moving again. At some point during this she was forced to hold her hand in front of her eyes, just to prevent the bits of flying snow from blinding her.

Her head spun. She'd lost track of time, and nearly lost track of her direction.

The incessant pain was poison in her bloodstream. Nani's whole body trembled with the agony of it. _Corypheus, _she recalled—the name had been burned into her mind like a brand. _He's the one who did this. He's the one who ripped a hole in the sky and tore Haven to the ground. Corypheus._

She would never forget that name as long as she lived.

Some time later, her exhausted legs gave way beneath her, and she collapsed to her knees in the snow, sucking in a strangled breath.

The wolf howled again, calling for the faint sliver of the moon above.

Nani blinked, panting, trying to keep herself conscious. Trying to keep herself _alive. _If she fainted now, she'd never make it up the mountain. She pressed her hands to her knees and remained there a moment, fighting a war with herself. Then a curious thing happened—as she stared at the blowing snow in front of her, it seemed to shift, take on life, morph into a misty, slender, humanoid form with pointed ears.

_You're almost there, Nani, _Finn's voice said, barely decipherable over the howling wind.

"Finn," Nani groaned, unsure of her own ears and eyes. The image of him ahead of her was much too incorporeal to be _him, _and yet, she _heard… _ "Finn, what're you…"

_Keep going, _his voice urged her. His lilting Dalish accent, similar to her own, was warm, steady, and she focused on his voice. _I believe in you, even if you don't. _

"Help me," she croaked, reaching a quivering hand forward. "I can't…"

_You _can, _Nani. You have to get up. You have to keep going._

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, wondering why he didn't come to her and help her up, wondering why he kept such a distance, until she realized—he wasn't here at all. No, indeed, the ethereal image in the shifting snow wasn't even there, not when she focused on it, and the strength of his voice faded from her ears when she concentrated.

Her dying mind had hallucinated him.

Nani collapsed forward in the snow, giving up, just barely keeping her chin above it.

She knew she was close to death if her mind had already begun to betray her like this. Of _course _it had conjured up Finn, and no one else; her brother had been the one to raise her when their parents were gone, to be that steady presence at her side, to make her smile when nothing else and no one else could. She wondered when—if—she'd be able to break her dependence on him, do something by her own raw strength alone.

Maybe she could start now.

This was what Corypheus wanted—for her to break down and die in the snow, for the Inquisition to fail, for the green anchor that foiled all his plans to dissolve into nothingness along with the rest of her. And with anger curling around her heart like a thorny vine, she grunted, jammed her hands down, and made herself stand.

One more step.

Then another.

Then another.

The wolf howled once more.

As Nani crept her way up the mountain, lifting each foot as high as she could to step over the mounding snowdrifts, she saw a pair of blue lupine eyes watching her from the darkness ahead, flashing iridescent green with each shift the way her own eyes did. Determined, she kept stepping forward, even as the pair of eyes disappeared into the shadows. She was fairly certain the wolf was about to circle around her and take her down from the side.

She'd fight. She'd use her bare hands. She had to.

The images shifted in front of her again, and Solas stepped into view, his blue eyes fixed on her.

"No," she gasped, fighting against her mind's betrayal. She would _not _succumb to these visions and to her own exhaustion and die here. "You're…not real…either…"

"You are safe, _lethallan," _he said, stepping closer, his voice so crisp and _strong _in her ears, and when he took her left elbow to steady her, he _felt _real too. She only had a moment to note how incredibly vivid this hallucination was before Solas craned his head up and shouted something up the mountain in elvish, something Nani couldn't understand because she'd never studied it like Finn had, and then there was Finn's voice, answering in elvish from not far away, _real…_

"It's Nanyehi!" someone yelled, a man's voice, and Nani saw Cullen emerge from the darkness, followed by Cassandra, Leliana a few paces behind them.

Nani squinted. _How…_

But there was Cullen, his armor glinting in the faint light of the moon, surging forward to catch her as she began to collapse to her knees, even with Solas's hand supporting her arm. Her curved his arms around her, under her, lifting her off the snow like a man would lift his sleeping child, and Nani felt the warmth of his body even through the hard metal of his armor, felt the solid strength of his arms.

"You're…real," she mumbled, her tired muscles giving out, her head thumping against his shoulder.

"She's badly injured, Cassandra," Cullen said, carrying her, and she closed her eyes and felt the rhythm of his walk. "Rouse that mage who knows some healing from her sleep. If we don't do something, we could lose Nanyehi."

"I'm…safe," Nani said, dumbfounded, her words quivering, even as Cassandra's footfalls crunched away in the snow.

"You're safe," Cullen repeated, holding her tighter. "We won't let you die. _I _won't let you die."

She believed him.


	24. Fire and Ice

_Hold on to your hats, folks - I gave Finn a nudge and veered wildly off-canon. **Because I can. **Why wait for a personal quest when we're not in-game?... ;)_

_You are all such lovely people for your kind words. Thank you so much!_

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><p><strong>Fire and Ice<strong>

Nani had been asleep in the tent all day.

Finn could sympathize—he knew personally how potent healing magic was, how it could knock you out cold for days on end and make you hallucinate like nobody's business. He actually found himself in a good mood as night neared and the sky roiled dusky above; Nani's prognosis was favorable, and even though they were all stranded on a snowy, desolate mountain, they were all _together._

He'd been in and out of the tent, checking on her, but she didn't wake. It was for the best, quite honestly. Rest would heal her faster than mindless chatter with him would. Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine had been keeping an eye on her as it was, so Finn wasn't exactly needed. The last time he'd gone in, Cassandra had actually shooed him out—"she senses you're here," the warmaiden had said, "and it's going to wake her up. She needs _rest. _If she does wake, I'll let you know."

For Nani's own good, he'd left the tent alone after that.

People were still milling about the Inquisition camp, restless and agitated, many of them looking up or down the mountain periodically as if their current altitude was the absolute _worst _to be at. He knew they were anxious to get a move on—they were probably worried about the Elder One tracking them all down, seeing as they really were sitting ducks up here. Very likely, though, Nani's perceived death in the avalanche had bought them some time to get clear of Haven's ruins and find somewhere more fortified.

There wasn't much anyone could do at the moment. And Finn didn't like wringing his hands together and agonizing over something he couldn't do anything about; instead, he found Iron Bull and his band of Chargers sitting around a firepit and sharing a drink, and he joined them, sitting cross-legged in the snow. Blackwall and Sera were sitting with them as well, snickering about beards or something—Finn couldn't quite hear—and he spotted Varric's shorter form next to Blackwall, although the dwarf was too engrossed in writing a letter to chatter about facial hair.

"Hey, Finn!" Bull said, lifting up his flagon in greeting. "Get the man a drink, Krem."

"Sure thing, chief," the short-haired warrior next to Bull said, pouring some dark golden liquid into a flagon and passing it over to Finn.

"Thank you," Finn said, taking a long pull from the flagon; it tasted sweet, almost, with the slightest of tangs, like a wine. "Is this mead?"

"Chasind sack mead," Krem answered proudly, clinking his own flagon against Finn's. "Had a barrel sitting with us from some highwaymen we killed a while back. Figured we didn't want to keep lugging this thing up the mountain."

"You could always strap it to Bull's horns," Finn tried, chuckling. "Might be a perfect fit."

"Start with one thing," Bull said, "and soon enough, I'm carrying the entire Inquisition up the mountain."

"You keep trying to carry them elves," Sera reminded him, briefly looking up.

"Us elves?" Finn corrected.

Sera stuck her tongue out.

"I keep trying to _throw _you elves," Bull said with a grin, turning his one good eye to Finn. "Say, didn't you promise me I could throw you once we came upon an enemy? We've fought a crapload of things now, and I still haven't gotten my elf-grenade."

"Not with this, you won't," Finn said with a shrug, patting his busted ankle, which felt a little better but still couldn't handle too much force. "I'll keep up my end of the bargain, though. Someday, Bull. Someday."

"Every time I approach you, you're getting into some sort of hare-brained scheme," Dorian teased from behind Finn, coming closer, then sitting cross-legged on Finn's left and resting his hands on his knees. "What's next? Joining a crew of Rivaini pirates?"

Finn smiled over at him. "That sounds fun. You think I'd fit into one of their cannons? Then they could fire a flying mage at one of the other ships. Pure destruction."

"Now I'm thinking of chucking you off the ship myself," Dorian said.

Krem handed Dorian a flagon of mead; Finn didn't miss that Dorian wrinkled his nose when he first took a drag of it, but apparently it was decent enough, seeing as Dorian didn't immediately fling it halfway across camp.

"I think I have first dibs on throwing Finn, pretty-boy," Bull reminded Dorian, clearing his throat.

"Maker knows I'm not about to get into a petty argument about flinging someone," Dorian said back, his normally smooth voice roughening around the edges. "Just try not to dash him to pieces on a rock or anything."

"Trust me," Bull said, lowering his voice a touch, "I'll take care of him."

There must've been some hidden meaning in Bull's statement that Finn hadn't caught—for a split second, white-hot sparks danced across Dorian's hands. They died away instantly, and it seemed Finn was the only one who'd noticed them. Bull returned to ribbing Krem about something, to which Krem laughed and fired back, and Finn took another drag of mead. He watched the brilliant flames in the firepit lick towards the darkening sky in front of him, tiny bits of ash spurting upwards and floating along the breeze. The fire warmed him, and he breathed in the smell of wooden smoke, feeling a little bit nostalgic.

"How's your sister, Finn?" Dorian asked him after a few minutes.

"Resting." Finn smiled softly, blinking; he felt a little buzzed from the sack mead. "She's hurt, but she's going to make it just fine, the healer says. I'm really happy she's safe now."

"As are we all, I imagine," Dorian said. "And yourself? How's the ankle coming along?"

"Fine and dandy," Finn said, twisting said ankle back and forth to gently stretch the strained ligaments. "Ribs are healing up nice, too, I'd wager. How's the bruised ego?"

Dorian raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You're drinking Fereldan booze," Finn said, gesturing to his flagon. "That's bound to do some damage to your noble Tevinter psyche."

"My _noble Tevinter psyche _is fainting in horror at the use of the word _booze," _Dorian needled him, one corner of his mouth tweaking in a grin.

Finn rested his forearm good-naturedly on Dorian's shoulder. "See, the more you listen to my heathen words, the more you get _used _to them. Soon enough, you might start throwing around crass profanities like nobody's business."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Dorian said with a laugh.

Finn really _did _love listening to his laugh—it was heartier than when they'd first met, warmer, and more often Dorian had that happy, electric spark to his timberwolf-grey eyes. He found himself staring yet again, and he shook his head violently. Bad move: the mead had started to fizz up his mind a bit. Finn swayed where he sat, using Dorian's shoulder to brace himself.

"Your training begins now," Finn said, looking at Dorian once again. "Say it with me—_Finn, you're a shithead."_

"Finn Lavellan, you are a chronically oblivious ignoramus," Dorian said, smirking.

Finn snorted. "See, sometimes I need a translator just to talk to you. Let's try this again. I'll use one of my ultimate favorites—_fuck a bucket."_

Dorian was almost on the verge of laughter now, but he was doing a decent job of keeping himself composed. "Perform intercourse with a canister."

"No one shouts that during battle," Finn said, taking a swig of mead and nearly choking on it. "_No one."_

"What was that about sex with a canister, Sparkler?" Varric asked, looking up from his quill and parchment. "Are you getting lonely, so far away from home?"

"Hardly," Dorian huffed.

Finn just laughed, and accidentally spilled a bit of mead in the snow.

Dorian looked over at him, giving him a skeptical expression.

"I…might need to take a walk and get some fresh air away from the fire," Finn realized, setting down his flagon, which he noticed was empty. He stood slowly, clearing his throat. "_Whew. _That's some strong mead."

"Go on, then," Dorian said, standing. "I'll join you. I've had enough, myself."

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><p>Finn rested his hands lightly on his hipbones as he walked, stepping over a fallen tree branch jutting out of the soft white snow and taking a deep, calming breath.<p>

"Bit of a lightweight?" Dorian asked from behind him, his steps heavier in the snow; Finn, Dalish as he was, had perfected the art of treading silently when he wanted to. Having only cloth wrapping around the arch of each foot helped.

"A bit," Finn said, stopping and looking around. The trees were sparse here, so high up on the mountain as they were, but the fresh smell of pine and the lighter, crystalline scent of new snow filled his nose, and he breathed in deeply, trying to clear his head. When he looked back, he realized he'd crested a high snowdrift and couldn't quite see the camp any longer.

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Finn, giving him a crooked smile. "I take it you hadn't intended to drink that much."

"No." Finn laughed. "I hadn't expected Bull's mead to be so strong. But really. That shit is _good."_

Dorian rolled his eyes, obviously trying to contain his amusement and failing miserably. "They should really write that testimonial on the bottle. _This shit is good. _Could you imagine how many more people would drink it, with that kind of glowing review? We'd have drunkards everywhere."

Finn rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "You know, if you're that bothered by my barbarian language, you could always go talk to Madame Vivienne."

"Bothered? Goodness, no." Dorian's eyebrows lifted. "Moreover, why would I subject myself to classy Orlesian insults when I can listen to an inebriated elf critique his drinks instead? I will agree, though, that it wasn't as terrible as I'd anticipated. Look at me…sitting on a mountainside and drinking southern swill—my parents would be mortified." He let out a short laugh. "You southerners and your customs get under the skin."

"It's a talent," Finn said. "We grow on people. We're like mold."

"Some of you more than others," Dorian said.

"So some of us are more _parasitic_ than others, is what you're saying," Finn said, chuckling. "Wonderful. I hope it's not me, or else that might ruin such a perfect day."

"Perfect?" Dorian repeated. "Did you by any chance miss the part where this Elder One razed Haven to the ground and reduced the entire Inquisition to sad mountain hobos? Or is this you being sarcastic again? I can never tell sometimes."

"What's to be sad about? We're all alive. Nani made it up the mountain in one piece. She's going to recover. I couldn't give a mule's arse about being stuck up here. Yeah, Haven was a disaster, and yeah, I feel really badly for the people who lost loved ones there, but at the same time…I'm just really, _really _happy that my sister made it out alive." Finn smiled. "Things just feel like they're going to turn out all right."

"You really _do _find that silver lining in everything, don't you?" Dorian said, his expression soft.

"I try," Finn said, shrugging. "I'm sure there are people out there who find optimism annoying, but they can go fall into a coal mine. Or be shoved into a coal mine."

"Ah, petty violence," Dorian said with mock exasperation. "Adorable."

Finn raised one eyebrow.

Based on his own prior experience, based on the fact that he'd been burned before—not literally, thank goodness—when it came to the messy business of flirting and feelings and whatnot, Finn _usually _tried to assume that casual flirtation was just that: casual. Rarely did Finn ever see feelings _reciprocated, _Creators forbid. But the fact that Dorian kept paying attention to him and saying things like that…it was confusing Finn to no end.

He could feel the blood rushing hot through his veins now, and he clicked his teeth together, trying to keep himself under control. He wasn't _drunk, _not at all, not anymore, but any amount of lowered inhibitions could make him do something he'd later have to apologize profusely for.

"You didn't have to walk with me," Finn reminded him. "Wouldn't you rather be sitting back at camp with the others?"

"I'd _rather _watch you to make sure you don't collapse face-first in the snow and suffocate yourself," Dorian said instead.

Naturally, Finn's mind fixated on the words _watch you, _and he shook his head to clear it. "I'm not _that _affected, Dorian."

"_The drunk elf said with a drunken flourish," _Dorian teased.

Finn snickered at that. "Now you sound like Varric."

"Maker forbid. The last creature I'd want to mimic is the dwarf." Dorian chuckled and lowered his head briefly, then returned to looking at Finn. "What would you prefer, then? Would you rather I stand here and silently watch you? I certainly wouldn't protest such a fate."

There it was again. That teasing, slightly provocative tone to Dorian's voice, a spark of intensity in his grey eyes. This time Finn _knew _he hadn't misheard. And the residual mead was suppressing his usual nerves, making his pulse pound in his ears.

"Why don't you stand _here," _Finn said, planting a hand flat on Dorian's chest and backing him against one of the surrounding tree trunks, "and stop dancing around the proverbial bush, because if you're trying to subtly tell me something, we both know I will _never _catch on."

"_Beating _around the proverbial bush?" Dorian corrected. His eyes flickered down to Finn's hand, trailing slowly and deliberately up his arm until they locked gazes once more. His mouth quirked into a smirk. "Hmm. You should _really _show your strength more often."

Finn's hand twitched on Dorian's chest, feeling the strong thumps of Dorian's heartbeat, aching to travel where it shouldn't.

"And then you go and do it again," Finn said. He didn't have the willpower to move his hand away. His skin burned. "Is flirting a common pastime in Tevinter? And why did _I _end up the target? Is it your goal to get me all hot and bothered and use it as an ego boost? Because you're having a grand old time confusing me, and I'm _trying _not to get the wrong impression, but you keep saying things like that and paying attention to me and you're _fucking hot_, and I'm making a massive fool out of myself, and I should really stop talking—"

Dorian grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around so his back was against the roughened bark of the tree, and leaned down to kiss him soundly on the mouth.

Briefly, _very briefly, _Finn considered pulling away and smacking himself in the face to verify that this wasn't the start of one of those erotic dreams he'd been having lately.

But no—no need to ruin a good thing.

Baffled as he was, it only took Finn a moment or two to wise up and lean into the kissing, stepping up onto Dorian's boots to even out their heights. Dorian's fingers clenched into the sides of Finn's tunic, twisting the fabric and yanking Finn's hips against his. Finn pressed both of his palms flat to Dorian's chest, unabashedly groping the muscles there.

He didn't know how long they stood like this—kissing, pressed together, chests heaving—he only knew when Dorian finally pulled away with an affectionate smile that very nearly burst Finn into flames and melted him into a puddle of elven goo in the snow.

He blinked, trying to form the right words, _anything, _trying to sound like he had an intelligent grasp of the current situation, and ended up with a breathy "_hnnnnh."_

That sent Dorian into a fresh round of laughter.

"Use your words, Finn," he teased, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

"That…_how?" _Finn sputtered, stepping off Dorian's boots. "You weren't just toying with me? You _actually _fancy men?" He raised a hand and roughly patted himself on the cheek. "I _think _I'm awake…"

"I take it that demonstration was enough to clue you in," Dorian said, resting his hands on Finn's shoulders. "Or, at least, I'm _hoping. _You can't possibly be _that _dense."

"And there you go, ruining the mood," Finn said, snorting. "Such a charmer. I am positively _quivering _in my petticoats, Master Pavus."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Petticoats. I've truly heard it all."

"You know what?" Finn lifted his chin in a challenging expression. "I'm going to play dumb. I think I need more evidence from you."

"Is that so?" Dorian chuckled, his eyes darker than usual, and pushed Finn back a little harder against the tree, leaning down to kiss him once more.

This time his mouth was harder against Finn's, his fingers threading through Finn's hair and tangling it. Finn tilted his head back and groaned when Dorian kissed roughly down his throat and back up, ending with his teeth scraping just beneath Finn's jaw. And when both of them pulled away this time, it was with a _great _deal of reluctance.

"I, uh…" Finn took a less than steady breath. "I think I have no choice but to believe you, at this point."

Dorian snorted, giving Finn one last quick kiss on the mouth before he took a step back. "You're a strange one."

"As advertised," Finn said. "So…what does this mean, exactly?"

Maybe that was a dumb question to ask. But Finn felt the need to clarify. If there was one thing he knew about himself, it was that he got attached easily, and if Dorian wasn't the type to appreciate Finn's attachment, well…better to know now.

"I don't know," Dorian said with a sigh. "And that's my honest answer. I really hadn't considered past what just happened."

Finn frowned slightly. "Are you…willing to see where it goes, though?"

Dorian's answering smile was soft, if a bit unsure of himself. "I'd like to."

Finn smiled broadly in return.


	25. Journey's End, Journey's Beginning

_Varric's about to break the fourth wall, sometimes._

_You guys can't even imagine how happy I am that you all like Finnorian. Thanks so much for your words!_

* * *

><p><strong>Journey's End, Journey's Beginning<strong>

Nani sat with her feet hanging over the edge of the cot, dragging a hand through her scraggly bun—sweat and dirt and residual snow had tangled her hair beyond belief. She probably looked like a complete wreck, but at this point, who cared? She pursed her lips and breathed out roughly through them.

"Take your time, Nanyehi," Cassandra said gently, watching her with cautious brown eyes.

Nani attempted a smile up at the Seeker, only for her head to spin dangerously; she braced a hand on the cot and took another deep breath, steadying herself. Healing magic was no joke, especially _apprentice _healing magic, when the mage hadn't fully mastered the right amount to pour into one's body. Still, she couldn't _not _appreciate what the mage had done—and the fact that she was _here_, in the tent, and not a snow-covered corpse on the mountainside.

"How long was I asleep for?" Nani asked Cassandra.

"Almost a day," Cassandra said, resting a hand on the pommel of her longsword; it seemed she always had the weapon equipped, no matter the occasion. "It is late evening now. You sustained severe injuries. That you made it up the mountain is…astounding."

"I couldn't just stop trying—" she started, stopping herself; she _had _given up out of sheer exhaustion, for just a moment, after she'd hallucinated Finn.

Speaking of…

"Where's Finn?" she asked, chewing at the inside of her cheek. The last words she'd said to him had been angry ones, and she didn't want him to think she was really _that _angry at him. More so terrified, sick with worry, nauseated by the sight of her brother being tossed across the battlefield like he weighed little more than a piece of parchment.

Cassandra gave her a placating look. "He is well. I can get him, if you'd like."

She opened her mouth to say _yeah, I need to see him, _but was interrupted by the tent flap folding open and someone pushing inside.

"You're awake." Cullen noticed her sitting up immediately, stooping a little to fit inside the tent; he really _was _tall, wasn't he? "Thank the Maker. You had us all in a panic."

Her brain took this moment to remind her that she likely _did _look like a sweat-covered mess, and she inwardly cursed herself for such an ill-timed thought, the tips of her fingers tingling. She squeezed her hands into fists a couple of times, in and out, to try and relieve the odd sensation.

"I…I'm all right now," she reassured him, coughing into her hands.

Cullen gave her a look that distinctly said _you-don't-sound-all-right _before turning briefly to Cassandra. "I came to relieve you, Lady Cassandra. I'm sure you want a break."

"There's no need," Cassandra said quickly. Then she eyed the two of them, and something dawned in her eyes, confusing Nani to no end. "On second thought, I have some matters to discuss with Josephine. Take care, Commander." With that, she left the tent, the flap slapping shut behind her.

Nani didn't speak for a moment. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap and wrung them together.

"It's kind of you to watch me," she said after a bit.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, shaking his head. He pulled his gloved fingers through his thick blond hair and came to stand a little closer, his gaze soft. "We've been taking turns, making sure the healing magic in your blood wasn't too much." His voice roughened a touch. "How did you escape the avalanche, Nanyehi? That should have _killed _you."

"I don't remember," she confessed, scrubbing at her scalp. "I only remember waking up halfway up the mountain."

And Cullen scooping her up, enveloping her in his warmth. She remembered _that. _Her throat tightened a little, and she decided not to attempt speech, lest she end up with an embarrassing squeak coming out instead.

"With any luck, this Elder One died in the avalanche," Cullen said.

Nani shook her head. "His dragon pulled him out. Corypheus escaped."

Cullen growled softly under his breath, obviously angry about her news. But then… "Corypheus? You learned his name?"

Nani nodded, telling him what _else _she'd learned—that this Corypheus had accidentally seared the green mark, the Anchor, into her hand in a failed ritual to open up the Beyond and step into it, that he was _immensely _old, that he was likely one of the original Tevinter magisters to breach the Beyond and spoil it past repair, that he'd been obsessed with her bowing before him like a servant might. When she finished, she felt the last vestiges of anger clawing at her insides, twisting her gut, tightening her muscles.

Cullen's face had steadily whitened while she recanted this.

"He _cannot _get away with this," the warrior said firmly, startling her. "All of those people we lost in Haven…and the people we _could _have lost… Once we find somewhere more fortified, we must amass troops and take him down."

"I couldn't agree more," Nani said. Her fingers ached for her bow, ached to pull the string taut and fire an arrow right through one of Corypheus's soul-sucking eyes.

"If I may…" Cullen sat gingerly next to her on the cot. "I should ask you how you're feeling. You _did _face down a glorified darkspawn and collapse a mountain on top of yourself, after all."

"I'll live," Nani said. "I'm feeling much better, as it is."

"Are you?" Cullen didn't look so certain; he reached a hand over and gently, _very _gently, brushed a tangled bit of hair off her cheek. "Maker's breath. You're as strong as you are beautiful."

Heat flooded Nani's face. She nearly choked on her own saliva.

"Forgive me," Cullen said, standing; the cot creaked as his weight left it. "That was…bold."

"You'd only need forgiveness if I _didn't _like the comment," Nani said, surprised by the boldness in her own voice. She stared down at her hands, linking her fingers together.

"So I see." Cullen chuckled a little, startling her. Then he lowered a hand to her, palm-up, offering his help to stand. "I think everyone's waiting for a glimpse of you."

Nani didn't question it—no doubt people were wondering if she'd come up the mountain missing two limbs or something. She couldn't hold curiosity against them. Taking Cullen's hand, she stood, following him out of the tent.

The sky was dark, snowy ground glowing faintly in the light of the moon. Nani held on to the crook of Cullen's arm to help herself walk, which he seemed happy to provide. She heard squabbling around her, restless noise from restless people—but gradually, as everyone began to notice her, the arguments died down. Then there came different words: _Maker bless you _and _there's the Herald _and _she lives! _People all over were staring at her, enraptured, and the green Anchor on her left palm quivered faintly with iridescence in response.

So many eyes on her. Nani almost shrunk away, but stopped herself.

These were _trusting _eyes, not suspicious ones. These weren't treacherous _shems _waiting to take down the savage elf; these were frightened people stranded on the side of a mountain, looking to the woman who had torn down a mountainside and prevented a monster from coming after them. This was _hope, _not malcontent.

And she smiled.

* * *

><p>Finn smiled and wrapped an arm around Nanyehi where they sat side-by-side in the snow, holding her close against him.<p>

She'd approached him shortly after he'd returned from his walk with Dorian, who'd expressed his enthusiasm about seeing her walking and left them both with a mischievous "I'll let you have your brother, for now…but I _do _expect him returned shortly." Nani had seemed much too exhausted to catch on to anything, which Finn was grateful for.

He knew she wouldn't judge him for his apparently reciprocated feelings. For crying out loud, she'd been the one to hold him together when he'd had an inner crisis over developing feelings for another man in their clan. But Finn wasn't one for public demonstrations—not to mention he didn't want to push Dorian too far—and so Nani not noticing was a teeny tiny blessing.

"Look at us both," he said, squeezing her. "We're not dead, we've got all our limbs, and we even kept our nice elfy faces intact." He lifted a hand and flipped a bird down the mountain at nothing in particular. "Eat a dick, Corypheus."

"_There's _an image," Nani snorted.

She snuggled a little tighter, leaning her cheek against his shoulder, and he smiled.

"I…left things on a bad note," she said after a moment of quiet. He could _hear _her frowning, almost. "I'm sorry for causing a scene in the Chantry, Finnie. I just…when I saw you get blown aside by that _thing, _I…"

"It's all right," Finn reassured her. "It's over now."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes. Finn's gaze traced the smooth curve of the moon above him, his ears picking up the sounds of people packing up their belongings for the night. It was almost bizarre, the juxtaposition of this night to the last one—now, instead of holding vigil on the mountainside with Dorian, waiting urgently for a sign his sister was alive, he could watch the twinkling stars and the swaying pines and marvel that she _had _survived.

"What would the keeper say, about all this?" Nani wondered aloud. "I remember she wasn't exactly thrilled about you accompanying me."

"I'll make a guess," Finn said. He cleared his throat, trying to lift his voice to mimic Keeper Istimaethoriel. "_Finirial Lavellan, I have spent _years _training you to be Keeper in my stead when the time comes, and I've had enough of your dangerous ways. Go sit in the corner and meditate on halla."_

"You never meditated on halla," Nani said, snickering.

"That _you _know of," Finn said. "I'll have you know I once meditated on the thought of steak instead of Falon'din during a particularly hungry morning."

"And the Keeper didn't notice?"

"Only when I started drooling."

Nani laughed, patting his knee.

"So," Finn said, "what comes now? We can't stay on the mountain forever. I mean, _we _could, but Dorian? He's about to wilt, I swear. He was never meant for life as a sad mountain hobo. And Varric's chest hair needs a proper comb."

Nani hummed in thought. "Solas pulled me aside just a minute ago and told me there's a ruin he's thinking of to the north that we should lead the Inquisition towards," she said. "Or, rather, I should. Everyone's been watching _me, _waiting for _me _to get them to safety. It's a little stressful, honestly."

"I can imagine," Finn said. "You'll do fine. I know it."

"You know…" Nani said. "It sounds crazy, but…I'm actually starting to believe you."

* * *

><p>The Inquisition had been trekking up the mountain for <em>days <em>now.

Finn caught sight of Nani up ahead every so often, scouting for them, pointing the entire entourage in the correct direction. He shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand, listening to the soft rustling and clinking of his armor as he trudged through the thick snow.

"Coryphy-shit," Sera said from next to him, her boots making shallow impressions in the snowdrifts. "Coryphy-twat? Coryphenis?"

She'd been attempting to find a better name for their Tevinter nemesis for the last several minutes now. Finn had been listening in amusement—so had Dorian, next to him, and Varric, a few paces behind.

"Coryphy-fish," she said.

Finn snorted. "No one's come up with Coryphe_arse _yet? It's practically the same name."

"I am _bursting _with pride at your creativity," Dorian said, thumping Finn's shoulder.

Finn smiled, relishing the warmth of Dorian's touch. The other mage seemed a little freer with his touching Finn, now—as he should be, really. But it solidified in Finn's (admittedly worried) head that one, that night hadn't been a figment of his imagination, and two, Dorian hadn't flung his hands in the air and backed out of their tentative relationship just yet.

It could still happen, he supposed. But he found himself desperately hoping it wouldn't.

"Coryphe-arse!" Sera repeated, smiling brilliantly. "_Ooooh, _that's _good. _You're a right _treasure, _Finnie." Cackling, she left him, jogging more towards the front of the pilgrimage to probably inform someone else of Finn's findings.

"Did you hear that?" Finn said, grinning over at Dorian. "I'm a _treasure."_

"That you are," Dorian said with a bright smile.

"Don't let it go to your head, Frosty," Varric said from behind him. "I don't want to be around when your ego swells so big that it explodes you all over the mountain." He paused, whistling. "Chapter twenty-five of _The Insane Life of Finirial Lavellan. _The elf becomes too proud of himself and turns into a walking bomb. Several who were caught in the blast radius died. Others sustained injuries."

"That was both disgusting _and _morbid," Finn threw back at Varric.

"Not to mention a rather poor choice of plots," Dorian added. "I certainly wouldn't keep reading after the protagonist detonated in such a manner."

"Like _you _know how to write a book," Varric said, laughing. "The only one you own is probably _How to Groom Your Moustache."_

"Which wouldn't be very useful for _you, _I imagine," Dorian said. "The one nearly hairless dwarf in all of Thedas."

"It's _all _right here, baby," Varric said.

Finn heard the distinct snapping of buttons coming undone; he briefly looked behind him to see Varric patting his thick chest hair and smiling deviously.

"…he's fondling his own chest, isn't he?" Dorian asked Finn.

"Lovingly," Finn said, turning back to face where he was walking after a moment more of looking. "It's almost…_mesmerizing. _In a way."

"Wonderful," Dorian said, grinning wryly.

"I'll leave you two alone," Varric said with a chuckle low in his throat. "I think I see Tiny trying to throw one of his Chargers. I _have _to witness this." His boot steps faded away as he dropped back to chat with Bull, leaving Finn and Dorian walking side-by-side by themselves.

Finn briefly caught a glimpse of Nani up ahead, scrambling onto a rock and checking out the scenery before her. Then she disappeared again, and he stopped trying to look for her, enjoying the scenery instead. It was lovely up here on the mountain, with the vast blue dome of sky, the slightest wisps of light grey clouds, the snow bright and white beneath his feet. The cold air danced over his skin, invigorating him, making him feel _alive._

"You're grinning again," Dorian commented. "Something you'd care to share?"

"Just happy," Finn said, smiling a little wider.

Without warning Dorian slung one arm around his shoulders, reeled him in close to his side as they walked, and plopped a quick kiss on his forehead.

Finn's face reddened slightly, and he staggered, grabbing onto Dorian's armor to keep him upright.

The Tevinter mage hadn't been _that _demonstrative before today, and certainly not in front of anyone. But with each passing day he seemed to get more and more willing to show affection, which Finn _absolutely _was _not _going to protest. It made him a little nervous, truth be told, wondering what people would say about him…but he found himself hardly caring right this minute.

No one had commented on them, not yet, at the very least. Finn knew the comments would roll in eventually. Oh well.

"And now you're tripping," Dorian said, trying to hold back a chuckle without success. "Is someone a little bashful today?"

"Just thrown off balance," Finn said, shrugging. He stumbled again, his foot catching on an unforeseen rock hidden beneath the snow, but Dorian's arm kept him from careening face-first to the ground. He smiled halfway. "I should probably give my ankle a break. And _no, _I don't want to be tossed over your shoulder again, thank you very much."

"I'm sure there are other, more pleasant ways to be carried."

"True. Hold still." Finn left Dorian's side and crossed around to his back, then made a leap and flung his legs around Dorian's middle from behind, holding onto his shoulders. "Like this."

"Fair enough." Dorian snorted and started walking again, cupping his hands under Finn's lower thighs to keep him in place. "Shall I make appropriate equine noises for you?"

"That won't be necessary." Finn laughed, feeling the chilled mountain breeze ruffle his ice-white hair.

"Hmm…your sister seems to have noticed something," Dorian said.

Finn looked up the slope and spotted Nani standing on a boulder, her long red hair rippling in the wind. She motioned excitedly to Solas and pointed, and Solas joined her on the boulder, pressing the butt of his staff against the rock. People around them began to murmur excitedly, obviously wondering what she'd discovered.

Dorian lengthened his stride the remainder of the snowy slope, hardly even winded as he reached the boulder Nani and Solas were standing on. People were beginning to clump around them, and Dorian edged past them; they parted for him, thankfully, probably made uneasy by the Vint carrying the lunatic elf. He stepped up onto the flat boulder, and Finn gave a sharp intake of breath.

In front of him, nestled into the mountainside, was a massive stone fortress, still holding strong even though the elements battered relentlessly against it. He could see the proud battlements even from where they stood, the thin bridge leading through the gates, a speck of mottled green that might have been a courtyard. A keep rose high in the middle, surrounded by other stone buildings; Finn's keen eyes saw some crumbling of the walls, but most of them were intact, as grey as a the sky after a fierce rain.

"Skyhold," Solas said, his stormy blue gaze fixed upon it.

"Skyhold," Nani repeated, her voice soft, in awe.

_There it is, _Finn thought, beaming, holding on to Dorian's shoulders a little tighter. _Something defensible. Something we can actually settle down in._

Home.


End file.
